Final Fantasy VIII: UNFOLDING FATES
by Soul Hunter
Summary: This is it, the culmination of all my work for the last 2 years. UFF is my last FF8 fan fiction, and I've taken pains to ensure that this will be unequivocally classified as a must-read for all FF8 fans and FF fans alike. So let the mayhem begin! UPDATE 10/1/2012: Posted new chapters 20
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

_Author Commentary: Almost two years ago I decided to write a very controversial FF8 fanfic in 's Fanfic forum. I didn't expect the kind of response the story got, especially one that suggested I should write a sequel story since it was too big to pass up._

_Yeah, it was too big, and writing a simple sequel to that story would be an injustice. Everyone who's read and understood __**The Remembrance**__ (posted in ) knows what I'm talking about. So together with the idea of a trilogy starting with my first FF8, __**The Fourth Universe,**__ I have collaborated with three of my most trusted friends and colleagues in FFO, Astarte and brightangel, to come up with a major, major FF8 fanfic evolving from that single story. And... this is it. This fanfic had been on the planning board for close to two years now and I just thought it's high time for us to finally unveil what I arrogantly believe as the most kickass FF8 story ever written. It will literally kick everyone's butt, at least. That much I can assure._

_Just a little note: some of the premises in the story have been pre-established in previous stories I've written. For example, Chapter 1 contains a reference that won't be understood much unless you've already read __**Queen of Souls**__. There will be other such pre-established premises throughout the fic and we will mark them all appropriately._

_So sit back and relax as the final fate of the fable Fated Children unfold in this highly gripping drama..._

* * *

**Prologue 1**

A day could never have been as perfect as this. And a short glance at the rising sun said it all for anyone who cherished the pristine serenity of a blessed, new morning. The air, sated with the fresh aroma of the early dew, moved gently with the mood of a legion of harp-bearing angels. Downside, a cricket lifted his head to the welcome blue, littered with the yellow and white specks of friendly Balamb seagulls. A Glacial eye hovered by, looked at the diminutive creature, and then floated off, ignoring the predatory instinct of pouncing on its staple. It seemed the beauty of the bright new day had caught the beast in a magnanimous feeling of benevolence.

The crisp stillness was disturbed by rapid footsteps. Scampering footsteps. Pulling her long skirt up to keep it from being drenched by the morning moisture, Rinoa continued to run with no apparent direction. Her eyes flashed frantically, anxiously alert and darting about like a beleaguered soul searching urgently for answers.

"Where could she be?" She muttered worriedly, her apprehension coming to a peak as her search had stretched for well over an hour. "I turn my eyes for one minute and she's gone."

A gust of placid wind hummed, bathing her well with its chilly touch. Gradually, the rapid thud of footsteps over the grassy ground slowed, and eventually faded. Having ceased her aimless scamper, Rinoa tried to cover her body with both arms to keep the biting wind chill in check. But it wasn't the cold that made her stop running.

_I know where I can find her._

She grew weary at the thought. Rinoa knew where to look, but she wished just the same that she didn't have to do this. That she didn't have to go there.

* * *

**Prologue 2**

A balding middle-aged man sighed while wiping off the dust accumulating along the elegant furniture amongst a dainty collection that had passed down along his family's line for generations. He would have asked his son to do this chore had the boy been around. But he wasn't, same as the other members of the household.

The man exhaled another exasperated groan. Being alone in a big house wasn't all that was cut out to be, he realized, especially after all that excitement they had gone through for undergoing the renovations. It had only been two days since his wife and kids left for their annual vacation with his in-laws. He would have wanted to join his family if not for some pressing domestic concerns that required his attention. And that was probably why he never noticed the otherwise arduous ascent along the refurbished stairway en route to his bedroom. Unwittingly, he turned the gold-brass knob of the stately, mahogany-constructed door.

"Huh?" he wondered as darkness welcomed his entry to the chamber. "I don't remember turning off the lights," the man said, unwittingly sniffing in a whiff of stale air. The fresh scent he had grown accustomed to during the last few days had mysteriously disappeared. In its place reeked something putrid.

His attention was drawn to the fluttering drapes adorning the big picture window along the east side of the bedroom. Somebody opened the window, the man thought as he quickly groped for the light switch.

A low, growling sound aggravated his alarmed state.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

The pounding in his chest intensified when the incognito presence didn't respond, continuing instead to bellow low-pitched moans.

"Whoever you are, d-don't mess with me. I have a gun!" He didn't. Someone of his renown would have been discredited in a flash if he did. But the man was now frightened, that last threat shot out in an effort to feign a brave front. He turned abruptly when the moans were followed by a blood-curdling voice.

"I… WANT… YOUR… LIFE. GIVE ME YOUR LIFE."

"The hell…!" He frantically scampered for the door, but failed to reach it when a searing sensation suddenly took hold of his head. "Arghhh… what are you doing…?" his guttural voice echoed in unison with the throbbing pain engulfing his whole being.

Realizing that the intruder intended to murder him, the terror-stricken man hollered desperately for mercy. "N-no… please don't kill me… pl… ease….!"

He didn't even hear the last utterance of his mouth when thick, rich blood exploded from his ears. It was quickly followed by the same dark-crimson fluid freely gushing out of his nose, eyes and mouth. Convulsing violently, the doomed man could do nothing but plead for death in the midst of the excruciating pain gripping his head.

A plea that was granted soon enough, as darkness devoured the remaining life essence in his husk, followed by a soft thud when the man's lifeless body fell limply on the carpeted floor.

* * *

**Final Fantasy VIII**

_**UNFOLDING FATES**_

**A story by**

**Astarte, Brightangel, and Soul Hunter**

* * *

**Part I **

**Chapter I**

He knew it was only a matter of time before the bell ushering in the first period rang. Arturo Hagel fidgeted with his guitar as he had done many times over, a perennial habit that made him a recognizable fixture within Balamb Garden's esteemed halls. As he did, he looked around and tried to absorb the atmosphere permeating through the din of mixed laughter and excited squeals emanating from returning students thrilled to discover that they were assigned in the same class as their friends, and new ones trying to blow off the nervousness that usually came with the first day in a new school. This wasn't the first school he had gone to in his life. And Arturo easily recognized the festive atmosphere typical to every academic year's opening.

Trying to ignore the chaos, he shoved his way through a group of freshmen mixing it up in front of the electronic display board showing new class and room assignments. Much as he wanted to, he couldn't share the enthusiasm glowing from everyone's face. As he peered into the schedules, he realized that his worst fear for the last two months had come to fruition.

"Damn…" he muttered dejectedly. He was repeating junior year. The native of Balamb town thought it shouldn't affect him in any way. He had always encountered difficulties throughout his years in Balamb Garden, and he knew that one day, things would be too insurmountable for his luck to hold out. That day had finally come two months ago. And though he didn't expect much disappointment in an already prevalent trend in his academic life, this negative development meant one thing that caused him extraneous frustration.

She had moved ahead of him. She had left him behind. She wouldn't be in the same class anymore.

It was all their fault, he insisted. If they didn't assign him to that field exam just before the previous school year closed, he wouldn't have been placed in a situation that forced him into that critical error. He hated that day and the consequences it brought. If he can, he'd try to get back at those self-aggrandizing SeeD instructors who assigned him to that field exam.

But somehow, in the back of his mind, there was this cognizance that felt amiss. The results of his crucial error had been horrendous, so much that it placed Garden itself in a precarious situation so serious, nothing less than the intervention of Esthar's president became required to bail them out of the fire. And yet in spite of this grim tiding, somewhere in his psyche, a silent soul was echoing a sentiment that felt strangely…

… Gratifying…

Despite the unwelcome situation, he felt a smile wanting to break through his lips.

"Hey, hey, HEY! What do you think you're doing?!"

"Five PM, guys. Like we agreed, we get the TV at five," a smirking Selphie shot back at Zell.

"Come on, Sefie," Irvine retorted. "The score's tied and it's down to the last two minutes. At least let us finish the game. You can always see the Jay Lennox rerun tonight."

"Oh puh-lease! How many times does this game go down to the last two minutes?"

"Well, it did go double overtime, Sef," said Rinoa. "Maybe we should cut our boys some slack for a change. Besides, I have a bet going against Instructor Aki that the Highwind Rockets will win."

"Oh, okay, Rinoa. But don't go blaming me if you miss the interview segment with Drake Henshaw…"

"What? Drake Henshaw's guesting?! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEE!" Rinoa screamed in the shrillest, most teenybopper voice she could muster. "Oh I've been dying to see that hunk for weeks!" She then turned to the trio of Zell, Irvine and Squall. "Sorry boys, but a deal's a deal."

"How do you put up with this, Squall?" Irvine groaned. Squall just smiled and didn't answer, opting instead to toss the TV remote control to Selphie.

"Have fun, ladies," the SeeD leader said. "Zell, Irvine, let's hit Nida's pad. I heard the guys are getting together for a card marathon."

"No thanks, Squall," Zell returned. "I don't feel like losing a whole month's pay to you and Tom." Popping sounds reverberated when the brash martial artist flexed his fingers. "Why don't we just hit the monster lair instead? I kinda feel like trying out some new moves against a Rexaur."

"Hey, have you heard? They brought in a pack of breeding Hexadragons from Esthar yesterday. Said it's for advanced training," Irvine enthused while smirking. "Advanced training my ass. We've definitely faced worse, haven't we, guys?"

Rinoa turned to him. "Oh don't be such a windbag, Mr. Kinneas. I don't think Headmaster Cid had us in mind when he pushed for it. Granted, not everyone in this Garden had the chance to go up against real out-of-this-world threats like Ultimecia and Vesta. But still, some of them are showing some real spunk out there. Heard about that kid, Rowan? Just the other day he flattened a T-Rexaur in one minute twenty-seven seconds flat. All by himself."

"Uh huh," agreed Squall. "Rowan has been working real hard. I've actually never seen anyone as dedicated…"

The SeeD commander's statement was cut short by a familiar voice emanating from the TV. Zell's eyes rolled in exasperation upon recognizing the face being displayed on the screen. And everyone in the room inadvertently shared his reaction.

"Oh man, you watch that garbage? Turn it off, Sefie."

"Wait…" Selphie objected. "I wanna listen to this guy."

"He's gonna say the same thing he's been saying, Sef," Irvine followed. "That Balamb Garden is evil, corrupt, highly suspect and bent on taking over the world. What else is new?"

But the former Trabian student didn't budge. She continued to train her eyes on the image of Zeilgr Markkon, long-time governor of Winhill. Selphie wondered - the governor didn't use to bask in the limelight as much as he had been doing for the last month, when he suddenly became a prominent public figure with his slew of fiery, propagandist speeches aimed against Balamb Garden. The computer whiz consequently shook her head in reaction to the smear campaign being blatantly promoted by the politician.

"What is this guy's problem? Anybody know why he became this spooked about us all of the sudden?"

"Who knows? Maybe he just doesn't like the fact that Garden doesn't answer to any single national government," Xu hypothesized as she entered the recreation room. "Politicians are like that."

"Hi, Xu," said Irvine. "What's cooking?"

"Nothing from Galbadia, I'm relieved to say." Xu's retort elicited a frown from him.

"Hey Xu? What do you think about this Markkon dude?"

"Heh, you have to ask?" she answered Zell. "I think we have to find a way to somehow shove his campaign up his fat behind."

"Oooh! Xu talking like a badass mama? I never thought I'd live to see the day…"

"Irvy! Watch your mouth," Selphie blurted out. "My nerves are already irritated enough as it is because of this guy."

"Then why are you still watching this trash?" Zell said. And realizing that she was the one bringing annoyance to herself, Selphie decided to finally click on the Jay Lennox channel, and then promptly turned to join the discussion. While she wasn't looking, a grinning Zell quietly sneaked up behind her to change the channel back to the basketball game, only to groan in disappointment.

"Damn… the Rockets won…"

"You know, guys, I'm really more surprised than anything," Rinoa said. "Zeilgr Markkon used to be known as a benevolent and diplomatic leader. Even my dad respects him a lot because of that."

"Yeah," Irvine concurred. "I even remember Quisty telling me that he's a nice guy."

A sudden hush followed the gunslinger's last remark. An abrupt silence characterized by drooping eyes and melancholic sighs as everyone in the room was reminded of their dear friend and comrade, Quistis Trepe. It had been more than six months since she left Garden for reasons that still provided ample mystery for those who cared enough to want to know why. And in this case, the category just happened to include everyone occupying the recreational room.

But no one was given the satisfaction of a reason, all the more aggravating the profound sadness brought about by the absence of one of the most beloved figures in Balamb Garden. The instructor left in the aftermath of the celebrated case where she was court martialed for the offense of desertion after immobilizing her comrades en route to facing an ancient incubus by herself. And even though the act of reprimand turned into a tribute to her selflessness and bravery, it didn't begin to explain her subsequent decision to resign.

Some had actually considered that she had eloped with the incognito personality who allegedly assisted her in defeating the soul devourer. But as everyone rationalized, that wasn't reason enough for her to leave everything behind. Despite the scores of male students fantasizing to be her beau, everyone shared the ultimate wish for her to find one of her own. If everyone deserved it the most, Quistis did.

And the prospect would have been welcome for nearly everybody in Garden. Considering her stature and reputation, Quistis' lack of a better half was an irony like no one had ever known. If she had indeed found someone to love, someone who would love her in return, that would have been a cause for celebration. It was supposed to be a happy event if it were true.

So why did she opt to retreat and not share it with her friends…?

Add to that the fact that ever since she left, they haven't heard anything from her. Not even a solitary postcard with a 'Hi and hello' message that they hoped would at least let them know that she was doing okay. And though no one was explicitly voicing it out, their gloomy silence was more than enough to express the fact that they missed their cherished friend immensely.

Loopholes upon loopholes, crusted with mysteries and unanswered questions, all pressed into one big cake of intrigue that they had wanted to solve desperately. But wherever she was now, Quistis sure did a great job of covering her tracks. But why cover her tracks in the first place? Why disappear like a bubble as though… as though she actually had something to hide?

"Would've been great if she hadn't left," Selphie sighed. "Graduation's only a couple of months away."

"Yeah…" Rinoa pensively concurred while training a pair of glum eyes toward Squall.

"Let's just stop this, okay?" Zell blurted out. "I don't wanna talk about it. Quisty left without so much as a hint why she had to do it. Whenever I think about it, it pisses me off. I mean, how could she do this to us? We're supposed to be her best friends."

Rinoa looked at Zell, but didn't say anything despite the urge to try and contain his outburst. She knew she shared her comrade's frustration. Needless to say, Rinoa had developed an exceptionally close affinity with the disassociated instructor. Being one who had the penchant to care for the people around her without reservation, the former leader of a Timber resistance group was incredibly awestruck by Quistis' sincerity despite the lack of free-spirited ardor that she shared with her other best friend, Selphie. Rinoa tried to cope with the loss, but knew she hadn't quite gotten over the pain yet. It had always been hard to get over the loss of a best friend.

"Get over it, bud," Irvine retorted. "I'm sure Quisty had her reason. Who knows? Maybe she finally decided to run away with Siegfried. I may be wrong, but I really believe she was hurt after breaking up with him."

"Oh, you are so clueless, Irvy!" Selphie voiced out. "If there's someone that Quisty might have run away with, it had to be that Hunter guy who helped her against the incubus. Didn't you read the case report about that?"

"Wasn't that the guy who beat you senseless, Squall?" Zell followed, his smile spelling a slight ridiculing intent. The SeeD commander simply shrugged his shoulders in an apparent display of indifference.

"Hunter…" Squall softly muttered. "Well, maybe she did. I'm not any happier than you guys with her absence, but I do think it's high time for her to find one of her own."

"YOU should know. Right, Leonhart?"

There was clear evidence of agitation and sarcasm in Xu's remark, aggravated by her referring to him by his last name. And this surprised Squall. He may not have known enough of the SeeD veteran to judge the motives of her actions, but what Xu displayed was an obvious gesture of contempt. And it disturbed him immensely.

"What do you mean by that, Xu?" Squall asked as his eyes locked with Xu's. The hostile eyes the veteran SeeD retaliated with startled him.

But Xu quickly pulled back, realizing that the object of her irritation wasn't exactly public knowledge. "… N-Nothing," she stammered. "Forget I said anything."

"Something I did?"

_That tears it,_ she thought. It was clear she had been aware of things unknown to the others. It was hard enough to keep a secret while at the same time remain impassive to its reverberations. She had been trying to control her temper. But it seemed Squall was actually asking for it.

"Oh, Squall… sometimes you truly are so full of it!" Xu angrily snapped before walking out of the room. Everyone was dumbfounded by her antagonistic behavior.

"Hey Squall, what did you do?" Zell curiously asked.

Squall didn't answer. Atypical for someone who'd made a career out of being indifferent to other people, for some reason Xu's surprising behavior bothered him. He'd pay a million gil to know why, if he can.

* * *

She had been wondering for days now about his unusual silence. It wasn't like him at all, given his renowned merry attitude and warmth towards people. Something was definitely amiss, the unassuming young lady surmised. And now, Ellone intended to know what was going on with Laguna.

Her being objected vehemently, yet she continued to eavesdrop through the slightly open door while the Esthar sovereign argued with someone on the video communicator device. Someone who seemed to hold a prominent position of authority, currently displaying a rare aptitude of triggering the ire of the usually cool-headed president of Esthar. Ellone's eyes widened when she heard him utter a now quite infamous name.

"Markkon, you have some nerve trying to tell me how to run my country."

"_Nerve? This isn't about nerve, Loire. You boast of your sovereignty in leading the most powerful nation in the world. And yet, so far all you're being proficient at is babysitting a bunch of overrated, juvenile spoiled brats." _Markkon lashed out, clearly referring to Balamb Garden's SeeDs.

"So what if I am in support of SeeDs? They're a very admirable group of people, and damn good at what they do. Besides, I don't remember the last time I gave you permission to criticize my policies." Laguna irately retorted.

Markkon grinned wickedly. _"Criticize? Oh no, I'm not trying to criticize you, Loire. Can't you see? I'm shooting you down outright. You and your incorrigibly senile administration. And I intend to see you shamefully relieved of you pathetic office."_

Laguna crossed his arms defiantly. "You can try."

The Winhill sovereign returned with an evil stare.

"_You won't be feeling smug in your perch once you realize the support I've been rallying against you, Loire. Just wait and see!"_ was Markkon's last remark before the comm screen went blank.

Laguna sighed anxiously. Much as he wanted to maintain a confident front, he can't deny the fact that he was worried about Zeilgr Markkon's threats. Already, some sectors in Esthar's society had begun to question him about the edict that secured Esthar's continuous financial support for Balamb Garden. It was now public knowledge that the benevolent president of the most powerful nation in the world was also father to the supreme commander of Garden's SeeD mercenary corps. And among others, this fact had been successfully used by the scheming Winhill governor to rally the propaganda against both the world's only independent military academy and Esthar's ruling government. Even here, the image of a world leader using public funds for personal or family reasons was bitterly frowned upon. And though it wasn't Laguna's real intention by any stretch of the imagination, the fact remained that Squall was his son. And such a situation could and had been easily exploited by Markkon in rallying popular sympathy for his cause of bringing reproach to Esthar's seat of power.

Still, that particular sentiment of the populace was not as ferocious compared to the tumultuous public uproar raging right now across Galbadia for the same reason. Unlike Esthar, Galbadia didn't exactly have a general appreciation of SeeDs after the latter had repeatedly opposed the late President Vinzer Deling in his quest for world domination. Laguna thought about the public unrest and how it must have been putting undue pressure to his friend, General Richard Caraway. He once again thought of taking a more active role in helping the Galbadian president, but he had to prioritize his own constituency first.

"What a pain…" he groaned. His perturbation was aggravated the more while recalling how he used to see Markkon as a competent and reliable political ally.

It didn't start to say that the international situation was that grim as to require him to solicit the pledges of affiliate men in position. But Laguna had always believed in being ready, just in case the former war-obsessed Galbadia somehow lost the levelheaded leadership of General Caraway and in the process, plunge the planet in another turbulent era.

Yet now, one whom he considered a dependable collaborator was beginning to act like his own worst enemy. And Laguna can't understand what brought about this most unwelcome development. He was still locked in grim thoughts when faint clicking sounds emanated from behind him. Laguna smiled to the sight of Ellone's gentle visage.

"I got in twouble," he playfully blurted out. Ellone broke into stifled chuckles.

"Who were you talking to?" she asked, pretending to be unaware of the proceedings that had just transpired.

"Oh, no one important." Laguna answered. "Just some nutcase who's got a real problem with Garden."

"Garden? Why would anyone have a problem with them? And wasn't that Winhill's governor you were talking to?"

"Yep…" was Laguna's curt reply.

Ellone's face turned serious. "Strange… I thought he was our ally."

"Not anymore, obviously," was Laguna's soft reply. "His wife and kids were among those who were injured during that terrorist incident in Deling City two months ago. And he blames Balamb Garden for sending in inexperienced SeeD candidates to execute the rescue operation. I guess the last straw was when his family ultimately died in the hospital due to the injuries."

"Oh…" she muttered. "Poor man…"

"Yeah, I know. And now… as a result of this tragedy, he's become hell-bent in instigating this black propaganda against SeeDs. And as their primary benefactor, I'm also receiving a fair share of the smear campaign."

"But that wasn't anyone's fault, was it?" Ellone said. "At least not Garden's. I know that they often use situations like this for their SeeD exams but the candidates were always assisted by full-fledged SeeDs. I think what happened there really couldn't be averted no matter who handled the situation."

"Tell that to Markkon. Frankly, I'm surprised that he's got this kind of vindictiveness inside him. Everyone used to think of him as a nice guy. You know…"

"… Like you?"

Laguna smiled at Ellone's attempt at flattery. "No, silly! I'm a lot nicer. You should know that by now."

"I just knew you'd say that!" Ellone lunged at Laguna to stab a pinch on his side. He frantically struggled to fend off her fingers, and in the process they consequently became as two kids playfully scampering around the room as though they didn't have any semblance of care for the world.

"Hey! Come on, Elle! That's enough! YAAAAAHHH!"

"HA HA HA! You've always been putty when I do this!"

The cacophony of yelps and laughter stretched for a few minutes as passersby wondered what could be happening inside the President's office. Finally, the exhausted pair settled by the edge of the communications console, both panting hard while laughing at the comic situation they had just gone through.

Laguna was still breathing hard and snickering uncontrollably that he didn't notice Ellone growing suddenly quiet, while staring straight into his sweaty face. When his hand accidentally landed on hers, Laguna was startled to feel her fingers intertwining with his own. He looked back, and saw the unusual expression on her gentle face.

"…Ellone…?"

"Laguna…"

He was dumbfounded, and didn't know whether to stare back into her eyes or look down to avoid her discomforting gaze. Laguna's sight inadvertently focused on Ellone's lips. So light and tender, he thought. Unwittingly, he started wondering how would it feel to touch those pale-red lips with his own.

_No!_ Laguna's mind exclaimed as he closed his eyes tight. He couldn't have been harboring such… carnal thoughts for the girl he himself raised. He simply can't. The idea alone was too repulsive. How did he come into such a disgusting mindset in the first place?

Seeing his flustered reaction, Ellone consequently snapped out of her own trance as her adoptive 'uncle' turned his head away abruptly.

"Laguna… what's wrong?"

"Nothing… j-just a sudden headache…" Laguna lied.

Ellone sighed resoundingly, unsure if it was out of relief or frustration. Pulling her hands gently from his grip, the pretty twenty-six-year old damsel subsequently lifted herself off the console and quietly walked out of the room. Laguna, still besieged by the appalling event, stared at the doorway for another couple of seconds. He then shook his head in disbelief.

"My God, what am I thinking?" he lashed at himself before falling into a thoughtful reverie. Another wave of chill ran down his spine. That was the first time in both of their lives that Ellone called his name without the 'uncle'.

Outside the room, Ellone found herself leaning against the wall, biting her lips hard.

**End of Chapter 1**


	2. Chapter 2

Unfolding Fates 2

****

**Chapter II  
SHADOWS OF THE PAST**

Why did it have to be this far?She had been asking herself this question since setting off from her small shack towards a grove of shy trees that hardly swayed with the gale-force wind.The dirt was sticking on her brown shoes in ever thickening layers as she repeatedly and yet carefully pushed one foot in front of the other.She almost felt like laughing.Six years ago, a friend of hers had the nasty habit of walking as though he was treading on the moon.It had less gravity, so anyone walking on it really should be more careful lest he wished to make thirty-yard strides.Not that it was possible.Proposals more than 20 years old of putting men on the moon had been turned down for safety reasons.A world teeming with monsters didn't exactly make for an ideal expedition.

She continued on, almost laboriously, her free hand supporting her lower belly.There was a time when walking ten miles didn't even get a bead of sweat from her.This time, the distance was just short of fifty yards, and she was already complaining why it had to be this far. 

She was the one who decided on it anyway.One of the things she hated the most was being near cemeteries and other burial places.She had always managed to shy away from such places, the last time of which was when her crew visited a school that had been decimated by Galbadian missiles.She just knew that there was going to be a cemetery amidst the rubble; a carnage like that couldn't have passed without producing casualties.She didn't know where it came from or how it developed, she knew very little of her childhood.She just knew that she was uneasy with graves.

But she just couldn't stay away from this one.Never mind the fact that it was her decision to have it placed fifty yards away from her home.Even if she wanted to, she just couldn't keep herself from spending at least a couple of minutes beside this grave.The lass with blonde locks sighed with relief when she finally reached that spot.Her shoes were already caked in rich soil, and so were some spots on her exposed ankles that used to be protected by light and classy but tough signature boots semi-modified to also function as combat footgear.What used to be a sash-and-chains fastened vermilion skirt with matching sleeveless blouse was now replaced by loose-fitting, pink athletic pants and sweater, whose shoulder area was covered by a soft layer of golden-yellow hair that she used to habitually pin behind her head for convenience purposes.Somehow, she had developed the habit of wearing them down.He had always said that he liked it better that way.

The golden whip was back at the shack, hidden behind the headboard of the king-size bed that used to support two.That was three months ago, though.She now occupied that bed by herself. 

Looking around, Quistis tried to check if there was anyone nearby.Seeing no one, she then peeked behind a sturdy-looking willow and pulled out a lightly built chair with nylon sheets spread across an open metal frame set perpendicularly against another similarly constructed skeleton but with a differently colored nylon lining.She set the pullout chair beside a mound of ornately covered earth and stone, then carefully lowered herself on it, the creaking sound reminding her that she should get another chair from the house the next time she visited.Her other hand was still holding a plastic bag filled with magazines and other reading material – the only things that had been keeping her company on this place for the last three months.Opening her newest issue of _The Green Thumb_ (a gardening magazine), Quistis started to read aloud. She felt she had to, or else she would forget how her voice sounded like.

_Being alone sucks_, she used to say.But she had grown accustomed to it.Besides, that was why she regularly went to this place to start with.Whenever she sat by that mound of ornate earth and stones, her loneliness eased up a little.It was as though he was still there, just sitting beside her and reading over her shoulders.Never mind that he had been dead for three months now. 

_Let me be the last you'll ever see and the first to cry for you _She had told him then.More than six months ago, Hunter gave her a choice, and she answered with those words that apparently touched him so much he instantly forgot about his deathly concern and readily took her in.He even married her, and she didn't mind at all that besides the minister who officiated the ceremony, they had no one but a couple from Dollet to bear witness to their union.All she knew was she had finally found her happiness in the arms of the hundred-year old avenger whom she now believed to be her destiny.

--------------------  
Author's Note: For the full skinny on Quistis and Hunter, check out the 20-part story _**Queen of Souls**_  
--------------------

The time they spent together was brief but blissful.And they literally lived as though each day was their last.So caught up were Quistis and Hunter in their rapturous union that they couldn't help but look beyond their glaring shortcomings and imperfections.They were always there to comfort, understand, support, and forgive each other if necessary.Even though short, the last few months before he finally succumbed to neuroblastoma one warm day was perhaps the happiest in Quistis' entire life.Even though brief, she never had any regrets.Yes, it hurt like hell when he died.But at least she was happy even for a short time.

Quistis had already gone through three articles spread across twenty-two staggered pages when she felt her eyes straining a little.But she was pleased.It seemed her eyesight was indeed improving.His formula appeared to be working.She was still batting her eyelashes when she looked down on the mound of ornate earth and stones.

Hey hon, sorry I can't change the flowers today. She said, her voice light despite the apologetic timbre.It's just getting more and more difficult to move with Kayla here getting in the way. 

Her hands simultaneously moved to her bulging stomach.It felt full and heavy, and she knew that _that_ time was fast approaching judging from how low the bulge hung whenever she was standing up.The occasional jolts whenever the baby kicked no longer surprised her as much as before, but she still smiled whenever it happened. 

My, she's growing stronger by the minute, hon. She said with delight.Quistis would have followed with a Looks like she's taking after you' remark had she not remembered that he wasn't her child's father. 

Oops, sorry

That was, of course, rhetorical.Hunter had never held it against her.He already knew that she was pregnant even before they first met.And this was probably the single kindest thing anyone had done to her.He accepted her in his heart despite knowing she was carrying someone else's child.Quistis used to thank him incessantly for that, but Hunter would only insist that it wasn't kindness.He loved her, he couldn't be expected to do anything less.

If there was one thing that Quistis regretted in all this, it was when she allowed the events of that night to happen.She knew she would regret it later on, but she still let it happen.What other thing could she have done?She was running blind then.Clueless, love struck, and utterly stupid.She knew quite consciously that Squall could never return the love that she had accorded him, but she still went through with that night.Utterly, utterly stupid.

--------------------  
Author's Note: The events described above happened in _**The Remembrance**_  
--------------------

Good thing there was Hunter, who loved her enough to see beyond her stupidity.She couldn't have been more grateful if he had come back from the grave for her.

But still she would have been carrying Hunter's child now, instead of Squall's.

Thinking about her baby inadvertently made her mind sway back to the friends she left behind in Balamb Garden.Quistis had to ask, what are those guys doing at this moment?It was only about nine in Dollet.Judging from the time difference, they were still probably asleep or still partying in one of those sporadic weekend late-nighters.She had to wonder if they actually still think about her.It had been more than six months since she resigned. 

This was the part that Quistis hated.She didn't want to think about it, but the fact remained that she still missed them.There were no mundane considerations on what would have happened if she were still in Garden.It was a moot point, and she had made an art out of dismissing moot points since learning to accept that some things were not meant to be.She just missed them, plain and simple.If she could, she'd jump on the next train to Timber via East Academy, and then another one to Balamb.

But she can't.There was a reason the size of a whole galaxy why she left in the first place.And that reason was again kicking against her uterine walls.She could never face anyone of her friends if they knew who this baby's father was.Hell, she'd never face them period with her stomach bulging like this and no dad claiming responsibility. 

And she certainly cannot face Rinoa.

Her best friend one of the two girls in Garden she loved like a sister

The one she betrayed. 

This was the sad part.Thinking about all these things inadvertently reminded her that she could never return to Garden unless some demon took over her body and commanded her to destroy the lives of those she loved the most.

No, she had better stay away.Everyone would be better off that way.

----------

How's Squad A doing?

They're almost to the 6th level, Marcus.SeeD support team is currently on its way to offer reinforcement, but I don't think they can make it on time.Squad A's on their own.

just great Marcus Derlini groaned.Iris, tell them to hold until reinforcement arrives.

Iris Deen, SeeD level 10, bearing her own brand of popularity for her personal attachment with the famous SeeD standout Zell Dincht, concurred before flipping aside her pigtailed hair.She had just flicked on the SeeD master communicator switch when a biting sensation suddenly struck her lower abdominal area. 

she briefly moaned before ignoring the dull pain.Squad A, hold your position.SeeD support is on its way so don't try anything until they get there. 

_But Iris_ a voice crackled back. _We've managed to evade most of the monsters.We can take care of this._

Negative, Myla.Iris adamantly disagreed.You don't know what's down there.You're the intelligence team, not the point squad.Stay put and wait for help.

Aww, alright.Myla Rayburn, 1st class Magic Operative and SeeD candidate, complied with the order.She subsequently turned an exasperated look at the other Squad A members, the pony-tailed Sandra Martel and Hakeem Genaro, the vest-clad Thunder Platoon 1st Class trainee whose physique almost rivaled that of the hulking Raijin.Both of them shared her disappointment in having to be held back from the action.

Well, at least we got this far.Do you think we'll get points for this?Sandra voiced out.

I hope so.Said Myla.I wonder how instructor Trepe felt when they went down here the first time

By down here', the obstinate SeeD candidate was talking about the infamous 6th level of Battleship Island, the Deep Sea Research center.It had been approximately two years since this facility first saw the intrusion of human curiosity after a long time.Since then it had been abandoned even by the creatures who used to inhabit it, and consequently has become a popular tourist attraction, frequented by those whose hearts yearned for adventure, mystery or the quest for erstwhile, forbidden knowledge. 

Until recently, that is.Two weeks prior, a group of amateur scientists descended its dark levels with hopes of uncovering yet unknown secrets.However, their young and inexperienced hands unwittingly unleashed newly spawned monsters that had since held the facility in siege, in the process trapping the helpless crew deep within the abandoned excavation site.Their only saving grace was an operable radio transmitter that made possible this SeeD rescue operation, which Headmaster Cid, in spite of his own reluctance, agreed to use as another testing ground for this latest SeeD field exam.

Which the trio of these resolute candidates were taking part in right now.Recently coming up at the top of their respective rankings, Myla, Sandra and Hakeem were chosen to constitute the intelligence team, Squad A.And being as such, they were considered second only to the SeeD support team in this operation when it came to raw abilities.But right now, they weren't exactly feeling that competent after being given a hold order by the popular pigtailed member of the Library Committee, Iris Deen, herself a first-timer as Operations co-commander together with Marcus Derlini.

Miss Trepe?I'll bet she didn't feel a tad scared at all.That's one of the things I like most about her.Sandra replied to her friend.Just imagine her, all that beauty and brains, and fearless!Gosh, I'd do anything to be like her.

She then fell silent. I sure miss her.

Heh!You Trepie Groupies all sound alike.Hakeem interjected.Miss Trepe's this and Miss Trepe's that can't you people say anything different for a change?

you're just griping because you can't beat her in a card game.Sandra shot back with a grin.

Myla seconded.How many times have you tried?Geez, I lost count.And even if you deny it, I know that the reason you gave all your cards to Squall is you were too humiliated to continue playing. 

Hakeem sulked.But if I hadn't given those cards to Squall, he wouldn't have beaten her eventually.Am I right or AM I RIGHT???

Sandra and Myla stopped snickering.

Glad to hear you agree with me.Hakeem teased.He was about to follow up with another snide remark when the SeeD communicator started beeping anew. 

_All squads!Proceed to Level 2!I repeat, proceed to Level 2 on the double!_

Damn!Is this a withdraw order?Exclaimed the frustrated Hakeem.

It doesn't matter.Myla retorted.Let's get going!

En route, the trio stopped dead on their tracks upon encountering three Toramas.The monsters moved unbelievably fast, quickly casting a Meteor spell that pummeled the amateur warriors.

Ugghhh!!!Damn cats!Hakeem blurted while countering with a Tornado spell of his own that carried the creatures aloft, damaging them with devastating mystical winds.Exhibiting presence of mind, Myla turned to Sandra to cast Triple on her, after which the latter unleashed a troika of Holy magic that further subjected the monsters to excruciating pain to make them pay for their aggression. 

Move fast, ladies!Hakeem again hollered.His decisive gesture accompanied a summon that brought forth a succession of Thunder, Ice and Fire attacks that were followed by the appearance of a bull-like creature – the mysterious GF known only as Kjata – who stomped his massive appendages on the ground to trounce the three Toramas with devastating Earth onslaught.The muscle-bound SeeD candidate half-expected the Tetra Disaster to finish off the enemies, but instead he was met by the unwelcome sight of Toramas getting up on their feet to unleash their Blaster attack.

Uh-oh, this is not good!Myla exclaimed.Sandra, Aura me!

The pony-tailed aspirant swiftly complied with an Aura spell that engulfed her comrade with rage-inducing gold flame.Not wasting a moment, Myla Rayburn twirled and waved her twin Wushu blades in the air, in the process creating radiant ribbons of Holy energy that slashed their way across the chamber and eventually blasted through the bodies of the monsters with relentless fury.A loud hissing sound accompanied the explosion of the Narrow Path', which was then followed by three lifeless monsters falling limply to the ground. 

huhhh great job, ladies.Hakeem panted.Come on, they're waiting for us at Level 2.

The scene that met them wasn't exactly expected.As Myla, Sandra and Hakeem reached their objective, they were welcomed by the sight of six other SeeD candidates belonging to Squads B and C, plus the seven SeeDs constituting the support team.Casey Auerbach, the SeeD popular for being overly conceited, wasn't looking nearly half his usual attitude as he gawked with dismay at the five dead bodies littering the steam room. 

We were supposed to rescue them Casey gloomily muttered.Looks like we're too late.

Way too late as I see it.Sage Gordo, SeeD level 4, furthered.He unwittingly folded the long sleeves of his apple-green shirt before examining the corpses.They've been dead for almost three days as far as I can tell.He added, displaying his unusual forensic talents that almost rivaled that of his obsession for the Leviathan card. they weren't killed by monsters. 

What?What do you mean?Casey quizzically returned.

I think what Sage wants to say is, they either died by asphyxiation or by third-degree burning from all the steam being generated in this room.Rowan King, fourteen year-old junior classman and the youngest SeeD candidate in Garden history, intermitted.Look at the door lock, guys.He pointed out how the electronic door-locking mechanism had been tampered with. 

Casey raised his communicator to chest-level.Marcus, are you hearing all this?

__Marcus' voice came back._How many did you guys say the bodies are in there?_

Five.Why?

Marcus breathed heavily before continuing_.The distress call we received said there were six of them in there_ He paused again._Now you're saying that there are only five bodies.Plus your suggestion that somebody screwed with the door lock_

I think I know what you're driving at, Marcus.Casey answered.They didn't die because of this place.They were murdered, possibly by one of their own companions.** **

Iris groaned._We gotta report this to the Headmaster immediately._

**----------**

The chords didn't sound right, he thought.He tried adjusting the bass string to the proper tautness to get the desired pitch, but his head didn't seem to be in tune with his hands.He persisted, stubbornly moving his hands about to tweak the instrument to the proper setting.But for some reason his long-time friend and constant companion can't bring itself to concur with him.Finally, the frustrated musician gave up, throwing his guitar on the earthy patch behind him.

Damn, not you too.Arturo Hagel murmured.Nothing had been going right for him ever since that fateful day two months past.He closed his eyes, not so much as to remember, but rather to try and excise the troubling thought plaguing his mind.

It's not my fault.Dammit, its not my fault!Blurry images of giant transmitter antennas and pneumatic pistons flashed back and forth through his tortured psyche, coupled with hollering comrades whose voices failed to penetrate the din of wailing hostages frying victims of that atrocious terrorist carnage. 

A funnel opened in his mind's eyes, uncontrollably, as if mocking him by further enhancing the images into a three-dimensional false reality.Pseudo-solid and vindictive shapes with no other purpose but to forcibly take him back to the past 

_One month ago_

There was not a moment to spare.Any time now the machinery controlling the humongous Dollet communication tower will cease to operate.That shouldn't have been a problem if not for the backup power supply standing by in case something went wrong.The thing was, the auxiliary power tapped hidden batteries buried deep within the cliffs overlooking the city of Dollet.And to their vile craftiness, the unknown assailants connected the batteries to a bomb that was rigged to detonate once the backup power activated, and will consequently shatter the cliffs and send a catastrophic avalanche of rock and earth that was certain to completely bury at least half the city.

What a way to take a SeeD field exam, Arturo thought.This time, lives were truly hanging in the balance.Imagine how people would think of him – the mediocre Garden student who had already failed six prior SeeD tests – if he can single-handedly rescue a whole city from certain doom.

_I'll be a hero!_He thought with a grin._I can finally hold my own against the likes of Squall and Selphie No I'll surpass them!To hell with Ultimecia and all that time compression wingding!_

Arturo's heart overflowed with inflated pride as he raced past the cordon set up by the Galbadian peace enforcers.He had just abandoned his assigned squad who was at that time engaged in the evacuation of the southwestern sector of Dollet, where experts believed a potential avalanche will hit the hardest.Managing to duck behind a large boulder, Arturo evaded the gray-clad members of the Galbadian bomb squad who were also desperately seeking the destructive device.

_You'll need all the help you can get right now, guys._He thought._Don't worry, I'm here._

However, upon reaching the entrance to the communication tower, a loud siren pierced the air as warning to the impending system shutdown. 

Oh shoot!Arturo blurted out.Better move fast! 

It took him all of half a minute to reach the central power station.But that was half a minute too late, as the surge meter had already begun to descend to zero level, indicating that the power had already been cut off.Arturo realized that it would only be a matter of seconds before the auxiliary power kicked in.

Allowing a second to think, the grandstanding SeeD candidate quickly identified the large stick that served as the surge respirator.He poured all his might in rapidly pumping the lever back and forth in an effort to manually restore power to the secondary circuit holders.He was moving so frantically that he didn't notice a fellow SeeD candidate approaching.

Oh fwhat the hell is he doing???The newcomer exclaimed before hollering at Arturo.Hagel, no!!!There are people inside the..! 

But it was too late for Arturo to hear his comrade's warning, as blood-curdling wails suddenly exploded from inside the circuit holders.His face turned pale-white, accompanied by a chilly sensation running across his arms and feet. The horrific cries lasted for a few moments before the capacitor exploded to mercifully cut off the electricity flowing into the circuit holders.

It was then followed by the scent of burnt flesh.

A hellish aroma that seemed to have stayed in his nostrils up to this day, two months later.Arturo covered his nose, then his ears.There was nothing in the air except the familiar sound of Balamb sea gulls bellowing their everyday melodies.But what Arturo heard was the reverberation of angst, the echoing cries for retribution of a dozen innocent souls sacrificed for the sake of his own quest for personal glory.A quest that turned infernal just as surely as the heaven it vainly promised.

He started weeping.But for what reason, he himself didn't know.Nor did he care.All he knew for certain was the final death knell of his ambition, his vision of someday being seen as a great one' by his colleagues, superiors, and the girl he had been dreaming about since day one.Echoing in his mind was the static disintegration of erstwhile proud voices.Lofty and pompous voices of his dreams of grandeur pathetically exclamated by twelve mangled bodies. 

The bodies.He remembered them quite well.A comely mother with her two children, two elderly people, four youngsters, and three sentries from the Dollet army.They had very little, if any, in common, before that fateful day came to pass when twenty thousand volts of electricity flowed into their helpless bodies and made them into similarly scarred, brutally seared, hideously blackened figures. 

Hideously blackened figures.

He should have been petrified with guilt-riddled fears while recalling the ghastly state of those innocent victims.But for some reason, Arturo felt a sense of appreciationNo, it wasn't it.It was more like accomplishment.Reward for a job well done. 

He clutched his forehead and massaged it.Arturo frowned, as if locked in an arduous struggle inside his mind.

Then he smiled, and wiped the beads of sweat forming across his temples while reminiscing with a chilling sense of serenity the gruesome fate that befell the twelve ill-fated souls.And right now, he had but one word to describe the experience.

He muttered while reaching back for his guitar.

**End of Chapter II**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III  
HORNET'S NEST**

Cameraman Lou Makandi started his day on a bright note. He was in the shower when his pretty wife suddenly went in with him and started whispering sweet nothings to his drenched ears. He was used to it. Amanda had always been the sweetest creature he had ever known. Often she would turn an otherwise drab day around with her uncanny mastery of the romantics, making him blush with her sugary but heartfelt words even without the benefit of a special occasion. Lou had always wondered about her, about where she got this habit of making him feel always special. Of course, he knew that she loved him. But not all women he knew possessed this kind of unfailing romanticism. And it frequently had made him feel lucky for having married her. 

It was fortunate he managed to do so to start with. Once a longsuffering private of the Galbadian army, Makandi had often agonized about his superior's penchant for cutting back his salary whenever he felt like it. The last straw came two years ago when he was preparing to propose to her in a long overdue candlelight dinner. They were on a train bound for Timber, escorting whom they believed to be Vinzer Deling on a speaking engagement. His commanding officer and Deling himself (who turned out to be a body double) scolded him for doing his job, something that ultimately became the final nail to the coffin of his soon-to-be-ended career in the Galbadian military. Right after the escort mission, Lou decided to tender his resignation much to the chagrin of his commander. He then got a job as a cameraman within two days, after which he was able to propose to his girlfriend and then marry her three months later. 

He thought he had been leading a charmed life. He had a beautiful wife who was so sweet and thoughtful that he couldn't help but brag about it to his co-workers who often complained about nagging spouses. Only one thing was missing from their blessed union. But not for long. That morning, Amanda's sweet nothings weren't exactly nothing. On the contrary, what she told him suddenly amounted the world for the loving couple that ironically had been childless for the nearly two years of their marriage. When she told him she was pregnant, his belief that his life couldn't get any better was instantly dispelled. 

He had been all smiles all morning. But that was until this moment, when his irritated eyes monitored the setting to make sure he got a good and centered shot of the man who was about to speak today. Another big shot, he thought, who wielded enough importance to be able to freeze normal programming just to push forth his speech. And about what? How the world was under the threat of tyranny with the existence of famed Balamb Garden. Lou had never liked Zeilgr Markkon; he thought the Winhill governor had always been full of crap with his incessant campaign to discredit Balamb Garden. Despite being a former Galbadian soldier, Lou's sympathy had always been with Garden. For one thing, the six warriors who defeated Ultimecia came from that military academy. That was how Lou Makandi always saw Garden: this world's first line of defense. For him, bringing reproach to an institution to which the world owed so much was unthinkable. Why in the world would Markkon say all those things about them? What was making this guy tick like this? 

To make matters worse, Markkon had actually garnered a solid following from nearly all the major cities in the world. It was almost unimaginable for him, and he couldn't begin to figure out what kind of attitude would bring a lot of people to forget the debt they owed the fabled academy that had saved the world at least twice over. Part of it, of course, was due to Markkon's gift of gab. He wasn't a top-notch politician for nothing. He knew how to rouse people's emotions through impeccably timed words that seemed to apply to their deepest grudges. Of course, it really didn't. That was the truth of the matter. But what value did truth hold in the hands of manipulative miscreants? Almost nothing, especially when it didn't serve their purpose. 

If he weren't being paid, Lou would simply turn off the camera he was operating. It was bad enough that Zeilgr Markkon had been using Timber's vast network to spread his venomous half-truths. But he had to be the one to focus the medium into which the governor had been fooling the world with. 

Just listen to this guy. 

Many times a lot of us had been taken by outward displays of righteousness. Markkon continued to address the TV talk show host. Lou almost wanted to smile while looking at the host. It was obvious Tacoma Washington, former film critic and now public affairs advocate, was struggling to maintain a straight face despite the governor's accusing banter. It was clear he wasn't buying into his pitch, but his job was preventing him to express his disdain. Markkon was probably too engrossed with his speech that he didn't seem to notice Washington's reactions. Take for example the late Sorceress Adel Van Thaylo. It was no secret that she rose to power using tactics involving dubious heroic accomplishments. 

Now wait a minute, governor. Tacoma finally interrupted. Saying that it was no secret is going a bit too far. Yes, there may have been doubts about her intentions when she saved Esthar from a group of half-human warlocks, but doubts will always be doubts until you prove them otherwise. Shouldn't we just stick to the facts here? 

Just let me finish, alright Washington? Markkon shot back. It doesn't matter whether it was substantiated or not, the important thing is there had been doubts. 

But those doubts appeared only after she became a dictator. 

Exactly my point! Sorceress Adel became a public figure because of her incredible powers. Initially she had used her powers to save people's lives. But it didn't even take one month for her to reveal her true color. And what became of her after that? She became Esthar's despot. She became responsible for the death of thousands who opposed her and the cowering of even more who didn't. Who put her there anyway? The Estharians themselves. Just because at one point, she saved their lives. 

Tacoma was about to speak out again, but he noticed the director of the talk show motioning him to shut up. Let Markkon talk, he seemed to have said. People were starting to tune in, and the ratings were rising. 

All I'm saying is that not everyone who brandishes power in doing what looked like heroism can be trusted. And that certainly includes Balamb Garden. Actually, we should pay more attention to them. Look at their case files and you'll see a list of accolades long enough to reach the moon. And this is the real danger. People have placed their trust on them. Pretty soon, they'll start to extend their tentacles and grip the world with their vaunted heroism'. And then they'd start putting their own laws on everything. Next thing we know, we're all living in any one of Balamb Garden's protectorate', subject and helpless under its every whim. What then? 

The director was running a flattened hand across his neck while simultaneously pointing at Tacoma. He motioned back, asking to be given a chance to clarify the situation. 

The way I see it, you're just basing all of these on mere assumptions. What's your evidence that Balamb Garden is starting to take over the free world, or even contemplating on doing so? 

How many SeeD outposts do they already have here in Timber? Markkon spat back. Tacoma was dumbfounded. He didn't see that question coming. They've at least two. Then there are five in Deling City, four in the Dollet Dukedom, one in Esthar, and another three in Winhill. Now tell me, why do they have to permanently station SeeDs across the globe? Safety? Protection? Unlikely. 

How come they're independent of all nations? How come being a Garden student is already considered an entirely new citizenship? How come their SeeDs have command jurisdiction over Estharian and Galbadian forces during military operations? Where did all these powers come from? Or more importantly, why would a mere school have such powers for their so-called mercenaries? 

Tacoma was thinking _I don't believe you people!_ when he saw a great majority of the studio audience nodding in agreement, as though they were being enlightened. He was about to call for a commercial break when the director signaled the associate producer to proceed with a phone-in question. 

_Hello Mr. Markkon, my name is Rona Cellena and I live in Trabia. I would like to ask if you believe that Garden's Headmaster Kramer is conniving with President Loire of Esthar to make Balamb a preferred economic trading partner. If that were true, that would boot Trabia out of the picture, and a lot of us depend on the preferred trading partnership between Esthar and Trabia for our jobs._

Why are you asking me that, Ms. Cellena? Markkon said, his mouth spread open in a toothy grin. My opinion hardly matters in this issue. What we need to know is the truth and we can only learn that by asking the people concerned. Provided they won't lie, of course. 

Tacoma began thinking about finding a new job. 

I realize that sir. But so far every comment and prediction you've made about international matters prior to this Balamb Garden issue had panned out. Everybody in my neighborhood believes all we need to do is ask you to clarify matters for us. That's why I'm asking you now.

Why thank you for the vote of confidence, ma'am. He said, his voice thundering in a more typical, speech-delivering politician style. I don't have the facts myself, yet. But if you're going to ask me now I'd say it's far less logical and even completely naïve to disbelieve this hearsay. It's not surprising for Esthar to grant unusual privileges and favors to Balamb Do you know Squall Leonhart? 

There were muffled giggles in the background, which were silenced by a loud shushing. 

_Yes sir, and I do know he's President Loire's illegitimate son._

There you have it. A little information coupled with some common sense do wonders, you know. 

_Thank you, sir._

Another phone in question came in. Everyone was surprised when a loud, shouting voice came through. 

_Excuse me, sir. But I happen to know some Garden students, and I couldn't have met a nicer bunch. You're theories just seem so hard to bel_

The phone call was cut abruptly. Tacoma looked at the director, who just shrugged at him as though he couldn't do anything about it. He resigned himself to the possibility that Markkon had acquired the allegiance of the network president. 

Pretty soon, the director shouted cut for the last time that day as the acknowledgments rolled across Lou Makandi's camera. Zeilgr Markkon was smiling from ear to ear, basking in the minor glory of the moment as scores of admirers shook his hand. Of course, it was customary for the host of the show to be among the first to shake the guest's hand. But after what had just transpired, Tacoma Washington just didn't feel like it. And yet Markkon still approached him. 

My boy, he began, I know you're upset about my position in the issues. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you actually had the chance to work with them. Anyway, I just want to let you know that I'm not taking any of this personally. Everyone is entitled to his own opinion, you know. 

--------------------  
Author's Note: Tacoma Washington played the role of misfit when he joined forces with the Balamb Garden Silver Star Elite and a couple of Estharian and Galbadian military officials in repulsing an alien threat in the riot comedy fic Substitute Saviors.  
------------------- 

Despite the cordial manner Markkon spoke with, Tacoma felt something in his voice. Something sinister. And he didn't seem to even feel surprised by it. He just gazed as the program producer led Markkon to the next room where a small feast waited. He felt sorry that Markkon turned down the invite in favor of another appointment. It would have been nice and easy to slip a bottle of extra-strong laxative in his food. 

Lou Makandi, perhaps the only other soul in that studio who had no sympathy for Markkon's cause, simply shook his head while watching the throng of what he called the gullible' gather around the Winhill governor. What was the world coming to that people would readily believe everything this questionable person would say? Have they completely lost their minds? 

All of the sudden, he wondered if it was wise to bring a child into the world at this time. 

---------- 

Another day, another inauguration night. 

This must have been the thought racing through Rinoa's mind while buttoning her SeeD uniform. She looked at her watch. It was a quarter past six. Squall should be here any moment now. 

Unwittingly, her eyes wandered around her room and fixed themselves on the open closet, and the off-white dress standing out in the mélange of light blue and black. The Galbadian princess chuckled upon recalling the very first time she attended a SeeD inauguration two years ago. Her amused thought turned into a profound sense of reminiscing. Of sweet yet comical memories of that klutzy, newly appointed SeeD she met on that night. The one who tried vainly to pretend that he can't dance. 

The same one who was knocking on her door at this very moment. 

Hello, my love. Rinoa exclaimed while wrapping her arms tight around Squall's neck. The SeeD commander became pleasantly surprised when his charming girlfriend suddenly smothered him with a deep kiss on the lips. 

Whoa! What was that all about? He asked after breaking up the kiss. 

Nothing. Just wanna say I love you. 

Squall smiled. Yeah, but we better tone down on the sweet nothings. He added while pointing his thumb behind him. 

Rinoa gushed when she noticed a blushing Zell and the pigtailed girl beside him. Sorry, I didn't notice you guys. 

I'd give anything if only Zell would react to me even half as much as Squall does to you, Rinoa. Iris said with a pout. 

Oh brother! Zell shot out. You expect me to be the Casablanca type? No way! 

Oh well, I can always dream She murmured before walking off. Seeing her disappointment, the concerned Rinoa glared furiously at Zell, after which the spiky-haired SeeD deputy commander scurried to follow his girlfriend. 

Frankly, I don't see what Iris sees in Zell. Rinoa said. 

That's a harsh thing to say. Squall objected. People were saying the same thing about you and me before, just in case you want to know.

Oh yeah She trailed off. You know, you're absolutely right. I have absolutely no reason whatsoever to love you the way I do. 

Squall looked straight into Rinoa's eyes. 

But still I do She sheepishly said. 

I know. He replied with a smile. Come on, let's hit the party. 

As the couple strutted past the immense halls of the magnificent academy en route to the gala room, Rinoa caught sight of Zell and Iris arguing by the front hallway directory. She subsequently felt a slight concern for having led the earlier instance that she thought must have been a cause for Iris to quarrel with Zell. He was, after all, a stickler for male machismo. No one could really blame him for that. That was why not a few thought he wasn't a very good match for Iris who, despite her expertise in explosives, was renowned as one of the sweetest girls in Garden. Fire and honey had never been a very good combination. And it was evident in the scene unfolding before her. 

Don't mind them, Rin. It's their business. Squall said when he noticed her watching their two comrades. Rinoa responded with a mild pout before landing a kiss on her lover's cheek. She didn't notice the pigtailed girl leaving the martial artist behind, visibly incensed by their disagreement. 

Zell muttered under his breath. He didn't want to disappoint Iris like that, especially on a night like this. But this wasn't the first time they had this kind of disagreement involving his attitude towards a relationship. It was not that he was lacking, at least that was how he looked at it from his point of view. And Zell just couldn't understand what it was that made girls perennially demand for nigh-cinematic tenderness from their beaus like some requisite for a relationship to actually thrive. Not all boys are slobbering Don Juans, he often said to her. She had to live with the fact that that was one expectation he could never, ever meet. Iris had to accept him for what he was because it wasn't likely he would change his nature for the sake of a girl. 

Not willfully, at least. 

A sharp recollection invaded Zell's mind. It wasn't true. Or maybe it was, that was why he had to qualify his rule with that not willfully' clause. There was one girl who quite unexpectedly brought out a tender side of him that he himself didn't know existed. And again, he was forced to ask himself what it was with that girl that made her succeed in something Iris couldn't. Did he love her more? Could it really be called love? He had to ask that question to offer himself a chance to deny it. Admitting to that kind of feeling for someone else in the middle of his relationship with the pigtailed girl would definitely be complicated at the least, and disastrous as its most likely outcome. 

Zell felt guilty. He knew he loved Iris. He wouldn't feel guilty in the first place if he didn't. But the feelings he regarded that other one' had been like an itch in his system that just wouldn't go away. He tried to dismiss it as a mere echo of forbidden thrills. It must have been that, but he didn't know for sure. The hard part was there could only be one way to know for sure. And that was the one they both agreed not to pursue if only to avoid hurting the ones they loved. The Dollet Communication tower was witness to this painful pact. Zell wished he didn't have to meet her that day. 

He wished he didn't have to go with her on that mission to Trabia. Though they had managed to successfully put up a deceptive front before everybody, inside him the dull bitterness of a doomed affection that resulted from that assignment still remained. Many months had transpired, and yet he still felt hung up about her as he did when they first parted. He wondered if she was also going through this same ordeal. 

Could she be the reason why he can't acquiesce to Iris' wish? It was almost bizarre, and yet nothing else was more obvious than the apparent fact that there were things he would readily give Selphie that at the same time, he couldn't do for his girlfriend. If so, how in the world could he possibly handle this predicament?  


Why did Irvine have to ask her to meet him here of all places? It wasn't such a big deal for Selphie a few moments ago. But that was before she emerged from the dormitory section into the central hallway to see him standing silently by the directory. Selphie thought she had been doing good in ignoring her feelings while feigning an insouciant attitude whenever she and Zell were together in public. She thought she could easily handle being around him now. But there was indeed a big difference between a hallway full of students and one that in its emptiness seemed it was exclusively reserved for the two of them. Alone like this, she still felt the burning sensation of a heart's denied wish. She still hoped they could do the things they used to do before that accursed day in Dollet when they agreed to stop it all. 

It had been more than six months. Selphie wondered if Zell was indeed over her. That was the reason why they agreed to end that little affair in the first place, to give each other a chance to reestablish their respective places in the lives of their loved ones. On one hand, it would definitely make things a lot easier for them. Sneaking around and evading people's attentions just to spend a few minutes with each other was immensely taxing on their psyches. They couldn't and shouldn't go on that way. If they didn't have the strength to hurt the ones who loved them, they might as well make sure that they won't, whether seen by everyone or not. That was the right thing to do. 

On the other hand, just the thought of Zell not feeling the same way anymore was painful to her. She may have heeded sound judgment over her heart's demands, but that didn't mean she was ready for it. Just the other day, Selphie's struggle to maintain her false front almost overwhelmed her. After seeing the way Zell acted in the recreation room, she was almost convinced that he was indeed over her, hardly sensing any semblance at all of the Zell that once promised he would always be there for her. 

At least it looked that way. And she felt torn between wanting it to be true and hoping that it was just an act. Hers certainly was. And again, it was much easier to maintain the charade in front of people than it was when they were alone. Like today. 

Little did she know that Zell's eyes had been wandering. And before she realized it, he was already staring at her. Selphie felt her heart skip a beat. 

Judging from the look on his face, she could easily tell that his skipped at least two. Selphie felt like melting, immensely touched by the understanding that he still felt the same way. Fighting the urge to run up to him became almost unbearable. 

She shook her head slightly, as though telling him that they shouldn't proceed on whatever it was their hearts were nagging on them to do. But in reality, it was more of telling herself. The young SeeD had never felt her heart so vehement in its rebellion. 

No Selphie muttered when Zell started walking towards her. What was he planning to do? Didn't he realize being close like this was still poison for her? 

He echoed. She couldn't do anything but to return his greeting.

Hey yourself 

They didn't know why they were doing this to themselves. Burning hearts bellowed inaudibly and yet deafeningly, a paradox of subtle screams from two beings whose minds knew better but whose hearts desperately ached to open up to each other. They had previously hoped that the time they spent trying to stay away from each other would have dampened their feelings. But it was the opposite that prevailed. Why did fondness have to make hearts grow fonder? Where did that accursed behavior start? They wished they could just shut their emotions off if only to avoid this most unsettling predicament. 

Selphie knew it was futile to hide her sentiments. She knew that he was aware of her need to bare her soul in the same way that she was aware of his need. But she had to try to contain herself. They both had to. In this drama of subtle betrayal, they were the ones who were guilty. If there were those who deserved to be hurt, it had to be them. It was unfair to hurt the innocent. 

It took a Herculean effort for either of them to follow up on their tensed greetings.

Going to the Gala Room? 

Selphie trailed. Despite the difficulty of the situation, she found it amusing to watch Zell displaying a meek attitude. It was so not like him, she thought. 

I wanted to, but Zell hesitated. Would he let her know that he just had a fight with Iris? And if so, would he tell Selphie the truth if she asked what the fight was about? Would he let her know of her influence, of the fact that she still had an influence in his behavior, and especially in the way he treated his lover? His mind warred, despite knowing in the light of present circumstances that it was immaterial if Selphie knew or not. 

Or was it? How would she feel if she knew there was tension between him and Iris because of her? How would _[I]he[/I]_ feel upon learning that the same were true between Selphie and Irvine? 

He'd feel elated and conflicted. The cause of elation was self-explanatory. As for the conflict, he dared not even think it. It might just prove to be the proverbial last fissure in a weakened dam holding back hundreds of tons of raging water right after a ferocious rainstorm. And he had better not dare that risk of capitulation. 

Zell opted to lie. 

Those hexadragons are waiting for me in the training center. And I'm just dyin' to have a crack at em. How long has it been since we fought one? Six months? 

More like nine. Selphie acquiesced. She knew he was lying. She didn't want to do it, but for some reason she felt an urge to drill into his head. Where's Iris? 

_Why does she have to ask?_ Zell asked himself. If he didn't know better he'd swear Selphie really wanted to punish him with the dilemma of a response. The look he consequently tossed her said it all: that question was uncalled for. What did she expect to accomplish with it? Was she waiting for him to tell her that Iris left because she couldn't stand his attitude towards her? 

What attitude? 

That one typical of someone whose word was owned by one but whose heart had been enamored by another? 

Selphie should have known better than to drum it in, he thought. If she had seen the scene that unfolded only minutes ago, she wouldn't have needed to ask. And even if she didn't see it, she should have known better than to trigger his ire at himself for allowing his heart to be divided. Of all people, she was one who should never ask him where his girlfriend had run off to, especially when they were alone like this. 

All this and more glared from Zell's eyes as he stared at her questioningly, almost indignantly. With that gesture, he boldly crossed the line they set between them many months ago by that ledge near the Dollet Communication Tower. 

And as if waking from a trance, Selphie recognized her mistake. Her head quickly turned away. 

I'm sorry I didn't mean to She bit her lips, hating the look that he hurled at her. But you don't have to look at me like I'm the number one troublemaker in your life. 

Zell blurted out. Sef, I didn't mean it that way. It's just that you know you shouldn't be asking questions like that. Not now, not yet 

I know! Selphie and Zell both winced at the reply she shot back with a raised voice. She, because of the pain she felt. A totally unexpected pain. He, after seeing that same pain blazing from her now misted eyes. How could he have been so callous? 

Sef, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. 

I know that too She said, still biting her lips. Selphie was beyond thinking that Zell intended to hurt her on purpose. He cared for her, that much she knew. And she didn't know if that was a good thing or not. But what mattered was he would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. Her pain was coming from something else. It was from a cognizance that all those times they endured trying to numb themselves from each other went for naught. They still wanted each other as badly as before they parted. 

It It didn't work, huh 

They were of like minds. Zell knew exactly what Selphie was talking about. 

No, it didn't. 

Zell looked at Selphie. In his eyes, she had never looked more beautiful. He had always thought she looked extremely sexy in her short yellow dress, but the regal SeeD uniform didn't do her any less justice. 

Zell gritted his teeth. He ached for her so much he would have swallowed her whole if he could. 

So what do we do? Selphie asked. We just can't go on like this. 

Look at it this way. We tried what we thought was the right thing to do, to avoid hurting those people who love us. But it didn't pan out, and we're still where we left off, like we didn't even move an inch. Zell gazed at her again, this time with suggesting eyes. So where do you think this leaves us? 

Zell? You're not telling me that we should go for it, are you? Selphie blurted out. Tell me it ain't so, because I might just hold you to that. 

It would seem for the casual listener that Selphie's allusion for accepting Zell's proposition was brought about by hopeful anticipation. But it wasn't, and he realized it the moment he read her eyes. Selphie wasn't excited by his suggestion nor was she thrilled by the prospect of giving in. 

She was terrified by it. She was afraid that if he were indeed serious, she'd just throw everything out the window and jump into bed with him right on that very moment. 

Then what do you friggin' think we should do? Commit suicide? We can't be together because we're afraid to hurt Iris and Irvine, but we also can't stay away while staying together as teammates and friends because it's freakin' us out. It's freaking ME out! What do you want us to do then, huh? What?!? 

She didn't answer. And Zell finally saw the truth. 

You love him, don't you. You still love him. 

I still love him. Her voice was faint, windy and almost cracking. I just don't seem to feel it whenever you're around 

Her words were filled with affection. Though softly spoken, it was eager and almost explosive. Zell felt happy. He cared for her too, but he didn't realize until now just how much he loved hearing those words from her. He felt happy 

But at the same time, he felt sad. Given the tidings, all chances of the two of them ending up happy together were so remote from his point of view. It made him feel sad like nothing ever did before. 

Zell was happy, and yet he was also sad. Happy and sad. Happy Sad 

_THIS IS NUTS!_

Good thing the high-tech communicator attached to the narrow leather strap wrapped around his left wrist beeped to life, or else Zell would have caved into the hard Balamb Garden hallway floor with his head. Selphie winced when she heard the radio-conveyed voice crackle through the tiny device. 

_Hey bud. It's me, Irvine._

Zell looked at Selphie, unsure whether to laugh or cuss. 

Someone up there hates me. 

---------- 

The invitation still lay on top of his bedside table, still untouched since a contractor from the Garden emissary corps delivered it there two days ago. Seifer didn't know what to do with it. Should he open it or not? What for? He knew what the invitation was for anyway, and that was already commencing at this very moment. 

He was either bored or curious, so he opened the envelope anyway. There were the usual flowery pleasantries that were supposed to entice the receiver to take heed of the occasion for which it was made. Some attraction, he thought. The Garden publishing committee really should choose a new caption writer. He could write something more stimulating than this in his sleep. 

Displaying his vintage loft, Seifer flicked his wrist with a scoff, tossing the gold-lined linen card to the trashcan. He's got better things to do than attend some SeeD inauguration. He had always thought it mundane anyway. What was the purpose of throwing a party for new SeeD inductees anyway? To give them their last taste of merriment before going off to those missions that would bring nothing more than paid tolerance to trivial pressures? These four people probably didn't even know what they were getting into. Yeah, being a SeeD carried prestige with it, but that was perhaps the only reason why most Garden students wanted it. Those more sensible ones who chose to simply graduate without the distinction were the thinking ones. They didn't want the responsibility and they know when to shy away from it. They were better off that way. 

Not that he was speaking hypocritically. Being a SeeD himself, Seifer may as well have been guilty of the very crime he was scoffing at. But he didn't have to fool himself. He never had to. Seifer had always known what he wanted. He had been an aspirant himself, but it was more the means that he was more interested in than the end. He didn't fail four SeeD exams not because he was inept, but because he was so good he believed he didn't have to take anyone's orders just to do things the right way. He had his ideas of what the right way was, thank you. 

Unwittingly, his attention turned to the envelope that held the invitation. Yeah, real neat. People would definitely laugh at him if they knew he gave so much of a hoot about invitations. Well, maybe they would if he wouldn't dice them silly with the Hyperion. 

For one thing, envelopes had never been funny for him. He had one inside the cabinet where he kept his trinkets and other personal stuff. He didn't know why he still kept it, he never bothered to look at the card inside anyway. Not for the last year and a half, at least. 

But dammit, he still remembered what it said. Quite clearly. 

_Miss you so much Wish you were here ^_^_

Yeah, right! Rinoa had always been putty in the hands of hot shots. He didn't even have to sweat it out just to get her to go out with him, all it took was patience in waiting for her by the doorways of Galbadia Hotel and she was his. Big time. The sun was already up when they parted ways after that first meeting. 

--------------------  
Author's note: Of Fire Crosses and Wishing Stars  
-------------------- 

But what Seifer didn't expect was that wasn't to be the end of it. If it had been another girl, he would simply have dismissed it as a simple one-night stand. But no, not with Rinoa. For one thing, it was obvious that he was her first. Was that the reason why she stuck with him like glue after that night? Probably not. Rinoa didn't look like a prude. So maybe she did see something in him that made her want him to stay around. And stay around he did, for one week to be exact before he had to come back to Garden for the SeeD exam that was to be the second he failed. Hence, the card inside the envelope inside his cabinet. 

Surprisingly, he called her. HE. Seifer Almasy. Calling a girl after already spending a month with her. And from Deling City at that, a place where gorgeous girls were supposed to be a dime a dozen. What was he thinking? 

Well, at least she was fun to be with and to talk with. So much that he, Seifer Almasy, even bothered to see her again during the succeeding, two month-long summer break. They talked a lot during that time, with Seifer's normally unimpressionable eyebrows rising repeatedly while hearing her daring exploits as a member of a Timber resistance movement called the Forest Eagles. As expected, he generously offered her his expertise, starting with the advice that Forest Eagles' sounded stupid because for one thing, eagles don't live in forests. Why not something subtler, he suggested. Something that connoted stealth. How about Fox'? No, there already was a Forest Fox. Owls would be nice. Owls? Rinoa objected to that suggestion since owls supposedly looked dopey. Hah, goes to show what she knew about Galbadia's wildlife. It took merely five minutes for Seifer to explain that she couldn't possibly make a better choice than the owl, saying that they really were fearful, deadly, alert, can see in the dark, etc etc etc. But Rinoa was already convinced halfway through his explanation. And so a legend was born, as Seifer mockingly boasted. 

They parted ways, met again, spent the night, parted ways again, and then met again. There was that inauguration night, after the SeeD exam in Dollet, wherein Seifer introduced Rinoa to Headmaster Cid (the night of her chance encounter with a certain Squall Leonhart). Prior to talking business with Balamb Garden's overseer, Rinoa signaled Seifer to meet her in their usual hideout. He never came, she never came. And next time they saw each other, they were already enemies. 

Up to now Seifer still couldn't figure out how things happened so fast. Maybe it was his fault. After all, he was the one who allowed himself to be deluded in that sorceress knight' thing. He became too engrossed with his romantic dream that he all but totally forgot about that girl who gave him all of her the first time they met. The girl that defied conventions by being the first one he actually called after the first date. It appeared that despite her faults, Rinoa had the knack for defying conventions. She did it quite spectacularly with that reclusive mook Squall, something that the popular Garden instructor who had every boy's heart spinning in the palm of her hands failed to do. Quite a feat, he admitted in spite of himself. And his case was no exception. 

So why did he do what he did? Why did he sacrifice her for his dreams? Why did he push her in front of Adel? Why did he do all those things despite knowing he will regret them later on? No, he didn't know. After all, regret wasn't supposed to be in his vocabulary. He was Seifer Almasy, always sure of himself and everything he did. 

He didn't have a clue that his heart will be broken by the realization that he had her and he let her go, just like that. 

Seifer could just kill whoever coined the adage _you'll only realize how much a person means to you after she's gone._

He hated the truth. But it was still the truth. Seeing Rinoa with that insufferable rain boy introduced new brands of pain that he didn't even know existed. But what the heck, he was Seifer Almasy. Seifer Almasy never cries, no matter how terrible the loss he suffered may be. It would be a crime for him to allow his head to hang down in regret. He will never give in. 

_HAH! Go spit, Rinoa!_

He wondered how long he will be fooling himself like this. 

Seifer had better things to do than stay here and be haunted by that small envelope that he knew he should have burned a long time ago but couldn't. With his usual flair, he swung the Hyperion in the air before deftly holstering it under his magnificent coat. He turned to the door and 

Another envelope? 

The way it rested on the floor in front of the door, it was obvious someone had slipped it under, secretly. Who in the world would slip a note to him like this? 

He picked it up, his curiosity marginal. But it didn't stay that way. Scrawled on the upper left corner of the envelope's unflapped side was his name, written in familiar, smoothly flowing and creative lines. Seifer's blonde eyebrows drew together upon recognizing Edea's handwriting. 

---------- 

The gala room was alive once more, and once again students were flocking in droves inside this part of Garden where time and again they paid tribute to a host of ecstatic candidates who successfully hurdled tremendous odds to be proclaimed as members of the proud SeeD mercenary corps. 

This time, the honor belonged to four elated new SeeDs – Myla Rayburn, Sandra Martel, Hakeem Genaro, and Rowan King – currently being presented to the Garden populace by a beaming Edea Kramer. Everyone rose to a thunderous applause when Edea noted the junior classman as the new record holder of the youngest SeeD ever in Garden history. 

Rowan just booted Quistis out of the record. Irvine remarked.

This is new. Said Rinoa. Matron's doing the presentation. Where's the Headmaster? 

He was summoned for an urgent phone call. Marcus interjected. The last clap of his voice had just died down when every other sound in the gala room did as well. Surprised, Marcus, Irvine and Rinoa looked around to see what caused the silence. On stage, Edea's festive disposition was instantly replaced by that of appalled puzzlement. 

Through the wide and regal doorway of the vast chamber, Zeilgr Markkon was making his proud entrance. 

What's HE doing here? Edea heard one of the new SeeDs murmur. And she had exactly the same question in her mind. Alert escalated to alarm as she quickly scanned the vast chamber for any sign of Arturo Hagel's presence. 

_Good, he's not here._ She quietly thought. Edea wouldn't have known how to react had the avid guitarist been present in the affair. She recalled a night close to two month ago, when her grim husband told her how, to both their consternation, he positively confirmed the identities of three of the victims in the tragic Dollet carnage where Arturo committed his fatal mistake. Then two days later, when the same trio, who happened to be the Winhill governor's wife and children, reportedly succumbed to their injuries and died on their hospital beds. The kind Matron couldn't help but cringe on the recollection of that gruesome series of events. 

And Arturo's absence didn't bring her any semblance of relief. She still had to contend with the question of why Zeilgr Markkon would pick this night of all times to respond to the courtesy invitation he had been receiving to attend Balamb Garden's SeeD inaugurations. Notwithstanding the possible oversight of their social committee accidentally sending him the invitation for today's event, Edea still wondered with extreme concern what Markkon had in mind for showing up today. He hadn't exactly been acting as one of Garden's best friends these days. 

Like all others, Irvine was staring contemptuously at Markkon who continued on his way through the crowd. _Had to have some real nerve_, his mind echoed. Feeling an abrupt void beside him, Irvine turned around and saw that Selphie had left his side and was now standing beside Edea. 

Matron, what do we do with him? 

Edea curtly replied. A response that seemed listless, as her eyes fixed on the unwelcome guest, who was also staring at her with cryogenic confidence. Edea's brows met, her mind absorbing the sheer malevolence behind Markkon's smug ogle and wicked smile. Had she been less prudent, she would already have cast a Shadow Flare spell on him. 

And to her greater dismay, the Winhill sovereign began to make his way toward the stage, all the while keeping his icy gaze glued at her. Everyone felt a foreboding; an ominously cold hostility coupled with the salty-bitter taste of fresh blood on their lips as the governor nonchalantly ascended the platform. Hellish stillness permeated throughout the gala room as Zeilgr Markkon mocked a bow of respect in front of Edea. She clenched her fists, but tried to maintain her composure when he occupied the spot in front of the microphone. 

Oh, I do not deserve this warm welcome, boys and girls. Zeilgr Markkon exclaimed, the tone of sarcasm very evident in his voice. Please, carry on. And let me just tell you all what a bloody smashing job you're all doing. My congratulations! 

I'd like to congratulate the guy with the guts to stuff this baldie's face inside a Malboro's mouth. Sandra Martel whispered to Myla Rayburn. She was about to climb down the stage when she felt a slight nudge. Behind her, Cid Kramer silently walked by. 

Headmaster, I can see that the years have been kind to you. Markkon addressed Cid, his lips stretched in an arrogant grin. 

I wish I could say the same to you. The Headmaster returned. He had to steel himself against a hostile repartee upon hearing the governor's rejoinder. 

Oh, rest assured. Someday my time will come. 

Cid knew those words constituted a veiled threat. Actually, the message was so glaring that calling it veiled seemed inappropriate. He couldn't avoid feeling regretful as he watched Markkon descending down the stage, his eyes all the while fixed on him. He knew the Winhill governor well enough to wonder what kind of force would drive a normally benevolent soul like him into such acts of subtle belligerence. This was way out of the ordinary, he thought. Could he be trying to exact revenge for what happened to his family? That seemed to be the most logical explanation for his behavior. In fact, that was the only explanation he could think of. But for some reason, the Headmaster had been feeling that something was amiss. That something or someone had been pulling some very sharp strings behind the scenes. He just couldn't pinpoint the source of this mysterious compulsion. 

A harsh and wicked guffaw was still emanating from Zeilgr Markkon's mouth while making his exit from the gala room. Cid held his forehead, struggling hard to regain the composure almost lost from this inauspicious turn of events. But however distasteful, he thought the students didn't deserve this grim interruption. A night of celebration must not be hampered by anything. He straightened himself up before taking the stand by the microphone. 

Heh, just goes to show that being a Garden cadet offers more thrills that your run-of-the-mill university life. He jested with a smile. Come on people. This is a party. Let's have some fun! 

It was strained at first, but eventually the students managed to weather down the stressful experience as they began to build up into a lively celebration. The champagne bottles started popping open, and roaming orbs and beams of different colors replaced the gala room house lights. Amidst the festivities, Squall cautiously approached Cid. 

Headmaster, are you alright? 

Don't worry about me, Squall. Nothing this old horse can't still handle. Cid replied with a smile. He then turned to his wife right after dismissing the SeeD commander. 

Edea, we have to talk.   


Beyond the Garden front gate, the din of merrymaking resonated, reaching the ears of the scornful governor. Just before boarding his car, Markkon turned, and glared hatefully at Balamb Garden's splendid edifice. 

Such simpletons. He hissed. So easily taken by the silent wiles of a soul bent on revenge. This is going to be easier than I had expected. In a short while, this proud and revolting place shall be nothing more than smoke and ashes.

**End of Chapter III**


	4. Chapter 4

**

* * *

**

Unfolding Fates

**By Soul Hunter**

* * *

Chapter III  
**STIRRING WAVES**

Laguna stepped off the ramp, hesitated, then took one step onto the soft green hills. The grass was long and untamed, rippling like a vast verdant ocean that extended from horizon to horizon. Winhill lay in the distance, poking up out of the long grass like an island. It was a thing of beauty to behold, the sort of sight that he'd missed all these years. However beautiful and sophisticated Esthar was, it simply lacked the soul that a place like Winhill possessed.

There had been a time when he had never wanted to leave this place, when he'd guarded its existence from the outside with a possessive fervor. He could remember how reluctant he'd been to do a travelogue about the place, just in case other people might find this place... or her. Now it was a place filled with memories almost too big for him to contain. He felt too small and too fragile to cope with the weight. The two biggest lessons of his life had occurred here. In Winhill.

He learned that everyone, even he, could become a hero. Heroes were not the ones that he saw in entertainment every day, in the daily rags, on the scandal pages. They were not big war heroes or sports stars, or famous actors. They were ordinary men and women that did things that were important. They dug into rubble to save victims, they rescued injured strangers, they protected frightened children from things that go bump in the night. Laguna suddenly found himself in the position of being a tiny child's hero and his life changed from that moment on. Somehow, Ellone had seen in him something heroic, something bigger and better than he had ever seen in himself. He was her knight in shining armour, he was the man who saved her from monsters. He was her protector, her idol, her father figure. He abruptly found that every action he took had an impact on a fledgling life, that what he did and what he said would forever mold what one little girl believed all men ought to be. Winhill taught him that he -- Laguna Loire, no less -- could make a difference in the world.

Winhill also taught him something else. He had always believed that the universe was a basically fair and kind place; that somehow or another, everything always worked out in the end. He believed that loved ones would be there tomorrow and that he had time. From this place, he learned the truth. Life was not fair and things did not always work out. Sometimes, you never see people again. Sometimes, you just run out of time. He had left Raine behind in the misguided belief that she would always be there. He had failed to remember that she was mortal like everyone else. It had simply never occurred to him that she would not always be there. Things had not worked out in the end; everything important to him had been stripped away by the capriciousness of fate. Winhill had shattered his innocence.

He had grown up to become a revolutionary, a leader of a powerful nation and a politician that had to balance one set of evils against another. He controlled forces that, if unleashed, could destroy lives a thousand times over. He knew how to deal with hostile forces both outside, and inside, his borders. He had the power of lives in the palm of his hands and fully understood the implications of that power. If he had to, he could wage war against other nations to protect his own. He had lost his childhood to become an adult and it had all begun here. In Winhill.

The problem was that this was a beautiful place, filled with joyful memories everywhere he looked. Over there by the beach was where he'd taken Ellone to collect shells. At that hill was where he had worked for extra cash to buy that small ring. In that field, Raine had said "Yes". Parts of his past that he could not -- would not -- surrender because of the pain of subsequent events. He refused to give in, give up, or forget simply because of tragedy.

Laguna loved her far too much for that. Between the choices of forgetting the good with the bad and accepting the pain to embrace the happy memories, he would endure the pain over and over. Forgetting Raine would be to insult her, to spit on everything that she had ever meant to him. Laguna would sooner die than ever hurt her. He'd hurt her enough already.

He took another half-hearted step. Then another. Every step felt leaded, as though he dragged a pair of balls and chains with his feet. He was headed towards pain and it made his resolve waiver. However desperately he wanted to see Raine again, this was not how he wanted to be doing it. He did not want to be viewing a cold monument to a lost love; he wanted to hold her, real and warm, in his arms. He wanted to have conversations, even arguments, with a living, breathing woman instead of talking to a spirit that he could never hear. How does one have a conversation with the dead?

He looked down at the bouquet that he held in his hands. Roses in a lovely peachy tone, wild looking and untamed blooms whose stems were wrapped in tasteful paper to protect from the thorns that he'd insisted be left as-is. They were heirloom roses, something difficult to find in Esthar, a city obsessed with new and improved daily advances. Sapphire roses and ruby irises were all the rage there now, products of Esthar's burgeoning biotech industries. He and Ellone had spent ages trying to find a place that catered to elegant simplicity.

Raine would have appreciated the gift, been flattered by the effort and aghast at the expense that the pair had gone to. Raine had always been a frugal, practical woman. Such wasteful extravagance would have been almost inconceivable for someone who had come from a small town. She would have been delighted and annoyed in turns. First would have come the gorgeous smile, the one that had always turned his knees to jelly. After a few moments, that stony, far-too-serious frown would have set in. It had been an adorable frown.

Laguna sighed as he walked slowly. He missed her. Not a day went by when he didn't think about her and feel regret. There were so many 'what if' scenarios that he could torment himself with that it made thinking of her painful. He could still remember the moment that he heard the news. The pain was as fresh as if it had only happened yesterday. He had been in the hallways of the Palace, chatting amiably with Kiros, when the agent arrived.

Laguna had been wanting to get in contact with Raine, to tell her that everything was all right. It had already been so long since he'd seen or talked to her. He wanted to discuss the future with his wife. Should he remain President and she would come to Esthar or should he pass on the responsibility and go back to Winhill? He thought that she'd make a splendid First Lady and he was certain that Esthar would fall as madly in love with her as he had. But first, he had to speak to her. He'd wanted to hear what she thought because it wasn't just his future that would be decided. He couldn't make the decision without her, it just wouldn't have been fair. 

The sad look on the agent's face had baffled him at first. Then he got worried. Was Raine sick? Was something wrong with Ellone? Winhill? He had feared that some illness might have hit the residents and that perhaps Raine needed help. The worst case scenario had never crossed his mind. The agent's revelation was like a kick in the stomach. Raine was dead. Gone. Forever. 

So now he was here, visiting her grave for only the second time. It was hard, almost too much for him to bear. On the other hand, what could he do? Pretend that she had never been? He would sooner cut off his own arm than to do that. It was something that he would have to simply learn to accept. In time, perhaps the pain would fade just enough for him to look at the carved letters without reeling.

He placed the roses before the stone and ran his hand over the letters that spelled out her name. Laguna smiled softly as an image of her flashed into his mind: her with that wry amusement on her face, her arms folded over her breasts, and shaking her head at his foolishness. She would have never wanted him to torment himself over events that had been beyond his control. She had been a sensible woman and she had understood the weight of responsibility.

"Hi Raine. It's me, Laguna. It's a gorgeous day outside and I brought you a present." He sat down to lean his head against the stone, wishing that there was a hand to take into his. All that he could hold were thorny stems.

"I miss you." 

--------------------  
Author's Note: To be continued in A Thousand Needles. The story can be found in Astarte's Library at http://astartefics.homestead.com/files/FF8thousand.htm  
--------------------

----------

Fujin turned away from the monitor in disgust. The mere fact that Markkon breathed the same air as she did was an offense. If she had been in the audience for that abomination of a telecast she would have killed him with her bare hands. She glanced towards her longtime partner and nodded for him to come. Raijin shook his fist at the image on the monitor with an angry curse.

"This sucks, y'know." Raijin was virtually shaking with anger as he smashed one fist into a wall in anger. It left a substantial dent behind. "Markkon's blaming everyone because of one accident. He's trouble, y'know."

"AFFIRMATIVE." She had no idea of how to deal with this troublesome new foe. This was a worrying development. SeeD now found itself the victim of its own success. The dangers that SeeD had protected against were too far in the past for the public to remember. Galbadia was no longer a worldwide threat and Vesta had long since been consigned to fate. Now the very might that had protected the people became the focus of suspicion and distrust. Humans were an ungrateful species that frequently proved how unworthy of her respect they were.

Fujin would have liked to see Zeilgr Markkon dropped off the side of a high cliff but she was nothing if not practical. Killing him would only transform him into a martyr and vilify SeeD. No, as frustrating as it was to think about, they could do nothing except ride out the storm of public opinion and hope that the fickle, ungrateful masses would turn on Markkon too. It was inevitable. The mindless masses always turned to feed upon their own.

Raijin sighed ruefully as he fingered the dent. "Man, I'm going to catch it for this. Makes me miss the old days when we were the disciplinary committee, y'know."

Fujin rolled her eye in exasperation then grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away. It was just like him to be too dumb to flee the scene of a crime. Let some other idiot take the blame for it. It wasn't as though Raijin was unjustified, she felt like hitting something too. She gave Raijin a kick in the shin. "ESCAPE!"

The door slid open just as they were about to leave. Fujin tensed, wondering if she would have to have it out with someone. She would stick up for Raijin, even if he were a dunce. He was part of her posse. The handsome blonde man standing in the threshold looked momentarily surprised then an amused grin slowly formed on his face.

"You two look guilty as hell. What happened?" Seifer had that perpetual little smirk on his face. It was a smile that Fujin had always liked. It made him look competent, daring and worthy of respect. The fact that it made him look even more handsome didn't hurt either.

Raijin had a sheepish look on his face and pointed towards the dent on the wall. It was surprisingly noticeable. "I saw Markkon's ugly mug and kinda lost it."

Seifer glanced towards the dent then his eyes were drawn to the monitor where the mayor of Winhill's face was being flashed, yet again. Seifer's eyes narrowed into feral slits. "Markkon." The hatred in his voice made him sound as if he were growling. He looked back towards his posse, all trace of that undercurrent of anger gone.

"Don't worry about it. Just say that the dent was already there. They'll just think that their pet chickenwuss had an emotional fit. Everyone knows that Dincht's got fewer active braincells than a jellyfish."

Fujin would have laughed if it weren't beneath her dignity. She satisfied herself with a small smile. "NONE," she said pointedly. Jellyfish didn't have brains at all. She thought that it was a surprisingly apt description of the excitable martial arts specialist.

Seifer grinned maliciously and started to laugh. "No kidding!" He chuckled then his face went somber. He just stood there looking at them, watching them. There was something unnerving about it, as if he was memorizing their every feature. The look on his face was sad, determined, grim and -- goddess help her -- regretful.

Fujin suddenly felt a horrible dread envelop her. She looked around scrambling for something to divert Seifer's attention to whatever awful thing it was she felt was coming. She felt something sinking inside, a fear that she didn't know how to express. All she knew was that she wanted to stop time with all her heart. She had seen this determined look before and it had nearly destroyed him. It had been a torture to see this proud man degenerate before her eyes. She couldn't stand to see it happen again.

"Fujin, Raijin. I came to tell you something. Its important."

No, no, no, no. She mutely shook her head not wanting to hear whatever it was. This was more dangerous than any Markkon could ever be. She had no idea what it was but she could feel her world under assault. She glanced towards Raijin, who merely looked interested. It took all her effort to maintain the dignified poise that was her trademark. However much it killed her inside, she would not degrade herself or her leader by displaying weakness.

"I'm leaving SeeD. I want you two to stay here." Seifer's jaw was set and his eyes firm. She knew that he had already made up his mind.

"POSSE." It was all that she could think to say and she put as much of herself into that word as she could muster. She could only hold their friendship up in countermeasure to his desire to leave. Loyalty would permit no more than that. Poor Raijin looked as though he'd been on the receiving end of repeated Lion Hearts.

"I know, I know. You have to understand. Its something that I have to do," Seifer said in a voice that was filled with regret. "I have things to do, stuff I need to do myself, but I can't go if you two aren't here. That Markkon bastard has his sights on SeeD." He made an angry motion towards the monitor. "I can't trust those losers to do what needs doing. They're a bunch of cowards. More importantly, I can't trust that prepubescent jerk, Leonhart, to watch out for Rinoa."

Seifer reached out to touch Fujin's shoulder then Raijin's. "I owe her for what I did back in the Lunatic Pandora. I need you two to watch out for her. For me. Promise me." It was a call from one comrade to another, from one friend to another. It both lifted her spirits and dashed them down. To be entrusted with his debt of honor touched her soul but to be parted from him was crushing. "You were the ones who had sense even after I'd completely lost it. I trust you."

Raijin nodded but Fujin could not, human frailty blocked her iron will. "WHY?" She felt torn between the heartbreak and the joy that his words brought. He trusted them, he trusted her. And yet... he was leaving. The soul of their small family was being torn out of their very midst. Seifer was the core, the guiding force behind their friendship. She just could not give him her answer without knowing why such a terrible thing was necessary. She had to hear it.

Seifer looked away, closing his eyes momentarily. "I need to get my head straight. Things aren't working out for me the way I'd hoped and I have to get away. Just me. I need to figure out where I'm going from here. I've got an assignment that might just let me do that. There comes a time when you just have to know if you can stand on your own." He looked at her steadily. She could see the look of grief in his eyes but the determination never wavered. "Promise me, Fujin."

Give up her soul to save his? Was that all he asked? Then her response was a simple one, as it had always been. "PROMISE." She would honor his wishes, no matter how much it hurt. Now, as then, her entire life was dedicated to this man, this friend, this family. Seifer had given them solace when no one else would. He had given them direction when no one else cared.

If he asked them to stay behind so that he could reclaim himself in peace then so be it.

Even if that meant the end of the posse.

----------

"Zeilgr Markkon has stated his opposition to the organization known as SeeD. What is your stand on the subject, sir?"

Aaron Dobe, Mayor of Fisherman's Horizon, regarded the videographer thoughtfully. "I have to wonder why your viewers even care what my stand is." The older man calmly lifted the china teacup to his lips and drank with all the dignity of a member of the Dollet nobility. The image was marred somewhat by the fact that the mayor was sitting cross-legged on the floor instead of at an elegant table.

Carter Dai had wondered the same thing when his boss told him to grab his video camera and trek off to Fisherman's Horizon to interview a man that few of the Galbadian public had ever heard of before. Still, it was his job. He hoped that he'd brought enough tapes because this guy didn't look like he was very conversational.

"Sir, the Galbadian public values the opinions of seasoned politicians such as yourself." Flattery couldn't hurt, Carter thought. This old guy looked as though he might need a little buttering up before he would decide to become talkative.

Sitting like a statue, Dobe simply regarded him for a long time not saying a single word. Then he smiled softly. "I would imagine that they do."

Carter paused for a moment but decided to let the comment slide. He had no desire to bring up the war, Vinzer Deling, or Sorceress Edea. Those were issues of the past and right now, the topic of the day was SeeD. "However, the point remains is that there are serious allegations against the SeeD organization. Surely, you have an opinion on the subject."

The old mayor paused as though he was carefully considering his words. "Look, the idea that a group of school children would plot to take over the world is beyond absurd. That is what you are accusing them of, after all."

Carter was taken aback somewhat but leapt at the opening with enthusiasm. This was working out fairly well after all. "Mayor Dobe, SeeD hardly qualifies as a group of school children. You don't seem to understand what SeeD is."

Dobe wagged his finger at Carter, a pitying look on his face. "Does the military might of Galbadia feel threatened by a bunch of teenagers? Is this what you are implying Mr. Dai? That the generations of skill and experience that make up the Galbadian army pale in comparison to a bunch of kids? That is exactly the position that Markkon seems to have as well."

This was great. It was better than great, it was a lead in for the six o'clock news. The public would eat this inflammatory posturing right up. "Sir, they are a highly trained group of mercenaries. SeeD has no political affiliation and no loyalty to anyone but their own leadership. How can you discount their potential threat?"

Dobe shrugged casually as he poured himself another cup of tea. "I have met Mr. Cid Kramer, the man in charge of the organization. I know him to be kind and a man of conviction. I can only believe that he has instilled those same morals on his students. I have yet to see them do anything that warrants the accusations being leveled against them."

Carter adjusted the video camera that he was holding. This man was a gold mine of sound bites. "Yet they are a group of mercenaries that will fight anyone for pay, is that not correct?"

Dobe nodded thoughtfully, conceding Carter's point. "I will admit that this is true. However, any military mind could be said to be the same, could it not? I cannot think of a single military sort that would fight for free. The limited mentality of SeeD is at least honest in that regard. Ambition and wealth go hand in hand." Dobe looked at Carter with contempt. He set down the teacup and placed his hands on his lap. "Must I remind you of what your own nation did to us only a few years ago?" 

An angry Carter wanted to say something but he held his temper in check. There was nothing worse than losing control of an interview. There was no way that he was letting this annoying jerk push him into doing something stupid. "And need I remind you that the mastermind behind that attack is now affiliated with SeeD? Perhaps you should reconsider your allegiance, Mayor Dobe."

It was startling to hear Dobe make an angry, grumbling sound. Carter could not mistake the enormous annoyance in the older man's eyes. "I cannot reconsider what does not exist, Mr. Dai. I have no allegiance to SeeD. I am merely unconcerned by their organization. Nothing more." Dobe had an almost petulant frown on his face. "Your pretended high ideals fail to impress me. I've noticed that your world view is as limited in scope as any SeeD's. Must everything be about alliances, threat assessment and fighting?"

Sensing that this interview was close to ending, Carter tried for one last comment. "Then the fact that Commander Squall Leonhart is the son of the Esthar President is not a concern?"

Dobe chuckled and got up to his feet. "The Leonhart boy from Balamb Garden? I've met him. I'm very sure that he's nothing to be concerned about. More an annoyance than anything else." He looked pointedly towards the door. "This interview is now over."

As he turned to leave, Carter shot one last comment in Mayor Dobe's direction. "You are gravely underestimating the danger that SeeD poses, sir. I hope you never come to regret it."

"And a nation of hawks will never comprehend a nation of doves," he heard as the door was firmly shut behind him. 

He hoped that these poor fools knew what their mayor was getting them into. 

----------

It was dark, a night made darker by the waning crescent moon. What little light existed cast strange shadows in the night, ordinary items becoming sinister silhouettes in the unfriendly hours of darkness. The silence was broken by the steady hissing and rhythmic groaning of the pipes. Far below, the water lapped steadily against metal and cement. It was as if an immense beast slept here, breathing fitfully and its heart pounding in anxiety. Sigfried Waller hid in its maw.

He moved silently through the jungle of pipes, walking along precarious causeways, always keeping to the shadows. The shadows were his friends, protectors that shielded him from view. He took great care to make no sound as he moved. The night carried sounds a long way and out there, somewhere, there were ears listening.

Sigfried paused, straining his senses. For a moment, all he could hear was the sound of his own frightened heart and his heaving breath. Clenching his teeth together, he tried to calm himself. This would kill him, this mindless animal terror, if he did not get a hold of himself. Think. Be rational. Be a man and not a trapped creature ready to gnaw its own limb off. Was he safe? How close was the enemy?

For a long time, he heard nothing. Then a sound, a muffled thud, then another. Steady footsteps, one after the other. Calm, deliberate, patient. His pursuer was still on the hunt. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Closer and closer. Someone was approaching with a slow, sure gait.

Now I know what it feels like to be a deer chased by wolves, thought Sigfried. How can he know where I am? Its as if he can smell me. My heart is too loud in my chest. He's going to find me.

Sigfried slipped deeper into the shadowy protection of the pipes. He could no longer even see the sky, only pipes that made menacing shadows and figures. His hands brushed against something. Picking it up, his eyes strained to see what it was. It was long and sturdy, yet flexible. It was almost like a whip but not quite. In the darkness, he could only guess at what it might be. For now, it was a weapon.

Sigfried found himself beyond pacifism. There was no talking to this predator that tracked him, no reasoning and no negotiation. He knew things that he was not supposed to know. This hunter was going to see to it that the secrets were never revealed. Philosophy would have to give way to the basic need for survival. Sticking to his principles would only get him killed. Would Quistis have seen the irony in this? Probably.

He hadn't spoken to Quistis in ages and now regretted getting out of touch with her. He could have trusted her with the deadly information he possessed. She would have had her friends to help protect her. She was a SeeD. She was used to combat, to the primal struggle of kill or be killed. It wasn't so much that he was afraid to die, it was that he was afraid to die before he could reveal what he knew. It had to be told. The world simply had to know.

--------------------  
Author's note: Siegfried Waller, a.k.a. FF8's Familiar Face #3 in FH, had a brief romantic interlude with Quistis in The Fourth Universe  
--------------------

But not to anybody here. He couldn't tell any of the people here. None of them would be safe. How could they protect themselves from this predator that stalked him? SeeD. SeeD was the only one. How ironic. Pacifist Sigfried Waller desperate to pass on information to a military organization, an act that could well trigger outright war.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Scrape. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound was so unbearably close that Sigfried held his breath. He was breathing too loudly. Half the continent must be able to hear his raspy breathing. Yet he kept cool enough to remain perfectly still. With nowhere to go, movement was death. He clenched the makeshift weapon so tightly that his fingers began to hurt. Letting out his breath slowly, he relaxed his grip and tried to listen.

Thud. Thud. Clink. Ping. Ping. Ping.

A small stone hit Sigfried's nose on its way down, nearly causing him to yelp in fear. He bit his tongue to keep it under control. There was no way that he'd die of his own stupidity. Sigfried pressed himself flat against the metal wall. Blending in with the rest of the shadows, he'd be invisible so long as he didn't betray himself. His hunter could not see what did not move.

"C'mon, Waller. I know you're there. Be a nice boy and come out."

Resisting the urge to sneer in contempt, Sigfried maintained his silence. Did this bastard think that he'd just walk out and surrender himself like a lamb to slaughter? There was no way that he was giving in. He would survive, find Quistis or her team and tell them everything that he knew. They'd do what had to be done. He couldn't but they could. It was something that he'd learned from the golden-haired warrior: sometimes peace is worth fighting for.

Thud. Thud. "You can't hide forever, Waller." Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. "I like winning too much."

And I, I like living too much to give up now.

****

End of Chapter IV


	5. Chapter 5

**

* * *

**

Unfolding Fates

**By Soul Hunter**

* * *

Chapter V  
**SMOKING EMBERS**

His head had started to ache even before the members of the Presidential Advisory Council walked out of the door. Normally, the presence of the elderly group was such a welcome sight for Laguna. Composed mainly of the Anti-Adel resistance movement that he helped in overthrowing the tyrant sorceress, they were the most vocal support he had ever had in the difficult task of taking the helm of government after Sorceress Adel had been secured in outer space. Only a handful of the twenty-strong committee were like the perennially slouching engineer Lucas Tertullian – who helped Laguna find Ellone after their escape from the Lunatic Pandora lab eighteen years ago – in being former slave-workers forced into labor by the late despot. The majority were actual politicians, science ministers and other prominent men of position that served under Adel but plotted secretly behind her back. These were the ones that were most elated by Laguna's accomplishment, and were most responsible for setting him up as the hero of the revolution. They had always supported him through thick and thin, something that Laguna appreciated so much in the performance of his duties as Esthar's president.

They'd had problems, of course. Running the most powerful country in the world certainly had its lion's share of the conflicts and controversies from both the domestic and international arenas. But he had always welcomed them with a smile whenever they convened for their weekly council meetings. After what they had gone through together, those meetings didn't feel like meetings at all, but more like regular bull sessions. The casual atmosphere helped them a lot in dealing with and surmounting most of the nation's problems.

Of course, they had not encountered the kind of problem they were having now. Despite all the ruckus Zeilgr Markkon had been kicking up, Laguna remained optimistic about the state of the nation. He still trusted his people to do the right thing and believe what needed to be believed. He would still be having the same view, though, if it hadn't been for this week's scheduled meeting. He was still happy the see them, but the issues left open after the meeting ended drastically reversed his usual demeanor.

Already, Markkon's incessant propaganda had been sending powerful shockwaves among a good part of the world's population, and popular opinion has started to go against what used to be a nigh-invulnerable state his position as the world's most powerful nice guy exuded. Never mind the western Galbadian extremists, they had always seen anything Estharian as antagonistic and inherently opposable despite their president's call for magnanimity in peace. But when the generally docile Trabians and the people of the cities of Timber and Dollet that had always been sympathetic to Esthar's cause began raising sporadic voices of protest, Laguna suddenly realized that the situation was not something to be underestimated. Much of Esthar's position in world affairs depended on the trust other people accorded them with. And that trust had started to steadily erode in light of degrading public opinion, something that he thought used to be his nation's strongest point.

Already, the stock market had begun to register decreased trading activities and plummeting stock prices. They had just started to recover after Esthar's telecommunications industry suffered significant losses as an aftermath of the recent alien invasion controversy that cast a dark light over their technology trades industry, no thanks to that mole who almost sold his soul for a rabbit. Every Esthar-related asset all over the world had begun to note several, similar losses, most of which seemed strangely associated with Balamb Garden. Though it was not yet significant, somehow the lower-class Estharians had begun to suffer the pinch. A lot of people had already been laid off from their jobs. And it certainly looked like that was just the beginning.

Even the benevolent town of Winhill started issuing some statements that had begun to alarm him. Just the other day, a small group of youngsters massed around the small house where he used to stay after Raine nursed him back to health almost two decades ago, and demanded answers regarding his alleged edict to stop the establishment of its own military academy. Despite the fact the it was Markkon himself who spearheaded the foundation of what was to be known as the Citadel Military Academy, Laguna had never turned suspicion on the said fledgling school. He had never been one who subscribed to paranoia. Needless to say, there was no such edict to stop or hamper the creation of the Citadel.

But for obvious reasons, the western Galbadians in general, and the younger generation of Winhill in particular, didn't see things that way, claiming that President Loire's outrageous support for Balamb Garden can and may compel him to stage an opposition to other similar institutions. Laguna's supporters had argued that it wasn't true, that the continued operation of Trabia Garden was testimony to his neutral stand when it came to the existence of institutions like these. They, in return, stressed the disappearance of Galbadia Garden's floating edifice as an example to the contrary. What happened to it after the much-publicized Balamb vs. Galbadia Garden battle during the second Sorceress War? How could such a huge building vanish into thin air? Who wielded enough resources and the right kind of motivation for stealing and concealing Galbadia Garden?

Laguna wished he could just say he hadn't the slightest idea. Which was true, of course. He himself had been asking the same question: What happened to Galbadia Garden?

Funny how a single insignificant person could manage to raise this much trouble. Laguna remembered what he did while visiting Raine's grave two days ago. He didn't know how, but Markkon happened on him on that day. How did he know he was going to be there? Or was it just a coincidence? It could be, he thought. Maybe despite all his poison, Markkon still harbored a soft side inside him. Zeilgr used to be Raine's most ardent suitor before Laguna barged into the scene and ruined everything for him. So maybe he was also there to pay his respects to his late wife.

Laguna can appreciate that. But he certainly cannot tolerate Markkon's disrespectful words about Ellone. Imagine even suggesting that he could actually covet her in a sensuous way. How despicable! He helped raise her from age three, for crying out loud! Markkon certainly deserved that fist sandwich. 

Laguna consequently raised his right hand before him. Punching Markkon's clocks sure felt good.

-----------------------  
Author's Note: See A Thousand Cuts for more details  
-----------------------

But holding Ellone's hand felt even better

Maybe Markkon had a point. Maybe Laguna hit him not because he felt insulted, but because he felt guilty.

"Don't tell me you've taken up palm reading, Mr. President."

Laguna raised his head. Kiros was at the doorway, ogling at him with that perpetual smirk. Now here was one of the two members of the advisory council he certainly could never do without, even if the man had made a career out of making fun of him.

".."

And where there was one, there was always the other.

"No, Ward. I don't think Laguna's falling in love with his own hands."

" .."

"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Laguna and Kiros simultaneously hurled at Ward. The big guy simply shrugged and smiled, raising his arms to project an innocent look.

----------

She had always believed he showed promise, ever since the first time she participated as a guest observer in one of Quistis' outdoor classes. Xu remembered the day quite well, of how she was astounded by this guy who came from behind his class to route the unusually dense formation of Glacial Eyes and Bite Bugs that accumulated near Balamb town. Back then, she hadn't seen one use a gunblade yet, Balamb Garden had very few who excelled in it. When Squall came to one of his classmate's rescue, she knew right there and then that that young man will go places.

And that he did, from a mere rookie SeeD to overall commander of Balamb Garden's forces almost overnight. Not a few expected his elevation to be protested and even contested by the more seasoned SeeDs. In fact, a few did. They were gone now, either graduated or dropped out entirely. But she was never bothered one bit that he overstepped her. Xu was not one who fought over ranks. Besides, he deserved it. Maybe it was helped by destiny, or maybe even Cid's favor. But that wasn't the issue. Squall Leonhart was arguably the best cadet she had ever seen, even eclipsing the likes of Quistis herself and the problematic Seifer Almasy, his rival.

Squall would have been the complete leader if he had been more sociable. The truth was, Xu had always wondered about him. He was perhaps the most insufferably aloof person she had ever known. Her opinion may have changed a bit after Quistis gave her the skinny about all of them being the Children of Fate, the youth of destiny that shared a common bond as kids before being separated for various reasons, and then reunited again under the roof of a school that trained topnotch warriors. But to her, Squall's reason wasn't adequate for him to do all those things he did.

For one thing, Xu never approved of Squall's treatment of Quistis. If Balamb Garden had a sacred dogma, he would have been excommunicated a long time ago for persistently shunning the person whom everyone else almost deified. Quistis Trepe the most popular name ever listed in Balamb Garden's personnel database, treated like a front door mat by this dweeb! Who did he think he was, some kind of God of gods? She was absolutely fuming when Quistis told her about his Then go talk to a wall' remark. Actually, the instructor had to keep her from going over to Squall to tell him off.

And that was probably part of the problem. No matter what kind of dirt he threw at her, Quistis had always defended him. There was a saying that it takes two to tango, and it couldn't have been truer in this situation. Squall was the boxing glove, and Quistis was the punching bag. Or perhaps more appropriately, he was the Wendigo stampede, and she was the grass. Quistis had been willing to take everything that he dished out and still defend him for that. It should have been admirable. But for Xu, it was nothing but pathetic.

What did she see in him anyway? What did Rinoa see in him?

Never mind the Deling City princess, she had always had this uncanny mastery of him. But Quistis didn't. She never had been successful in trying to figure out his enigma. Ironically, Squall himself confessed that she was too difficult to get along with. Look who's talking!

So why did she keep on coming to him with kindness when all he had ever done was show her the door? Was it really love? Infatuation? Devotion? Could it really be called love?

In her book, it was called stupidity.

And to make it monumentally worse, she had to go and _sleep with him_. _"How did that happen?"_ Xu asked a half-swooning, half-confused Quistis after that night the two ran into each other in Balamb. She was exhausted from a daylong consultation meeting in Dollet, while he was drunk. Big time pissed off with Rinoa and very, very drunk. Maybe anyone would have done the same thing Quistis did. After all, neither one of them was in any condition to drive for two and a half hours. So they checked in the fabled Balamb Hotel.

Xu recalled what Quistis told her, that she remembered the front desk girl instinctively giving them a regular Class B suite with a single king-sized bed and complete amenities like a TV with DVD player and HD cable hookup, bath and Jacuzzi, and a fully loaded coffee tray on wheels complete with the most delicious pastries on the face of the planet, compliments of the owners whose daughter they once rescued from a horde of Galbadian thugs. When Quistis had pondered on it much later, the girl must have thought they were a couple, hence the room with only one huge bed (perfectly suited for rolling around) and the pipe-in music tuned to a romantic jazz station. 

It was, in a nutshell, picture-perfect. And nothing spelled disaster more loudly than that room.

Xu was flustered. To her knowledge, there were three kinds of people that usually indulged themselves in suites like that: honeymooners; young heroes in love; and a couple with one filthy rich and the other married, or vice-versa, or both. Squall and Quistis were the letter D. They were the glaring None of the above.' That room was definitely not designed for one drunken SeeD and another dead tired one. And it certainly wasn't a room for one SeeD commander with a girlfriend he loved very much, and his beautiful, sexy and intelligent deputy who was also hopelessly in love with him. Xu scowled at the recollection. Quistis has said she knew it wasn't right. But for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why she didn't request for a room with two beds. Or better yet, two separate rooms. Too tired? To pick up the phone?

Yeah, right. And Seifer Almasy was Selphie Tilmitt's twin brother.

Squall confronted her two months later about that night. And Quistis said nothing happened.

She lied.

EVERYTHING happened. Everything that could possibly happen between a hunk of a guy and a gorgeous girl inside a room of the most romantic love nest in the northern hemisphere HAPPENED. 

Not that she was condemning her friend. Let the one who had no sin cast the first stone, so to speak. Xu herself was no stranger to one-night stands. There was this freshmen welcome party held in Winhill sometime ago wherein she got a little out of control after five shots of Tequila. Nida was there. Ever the gentleman, he took it upon himself to escort her to her room when it became obvious she no longer had any chance of finding it herself. Neither was Xu capable of fitting the key into the lock. So Nida did, and then he carried her in the room. The sun was already up when Nida came out.

But that was no reason for reproach. At least the two of them had enough sense to treat that night with a grain of salt. It was a straightway night of insanity however oxymoronic it sounded. No strings attached, no penalties incurred.

Not like in Squall and Quistis' case. For someone who was dead drunk, he really did a number on her. Was he really _that_ drunk? Xu couldn't help wondering. He banged her and banged her hard and good. That was the keeling over part in the instructor's recollection. Three hours. Xu didn't know whether to feel intrigued or disgusted when Quistis told her how good he was. She had to cover her ears when the instructor-turned-squealing-school-girl started to enumerate details.

---------------------  
Author's Note: And that's what really happened in The Remembrance  
---------------------

It wasn't her first time, of course, but it may as well have been. Xu had never seen her eyes sparkle like that, a far cry from how she was in her past experiences. Despite her inveterate Squall fixation, Quistis was at least sensible enough to try her luck with other guys. Prior to that event, she'd already dated an instructor from Galbadia Garden and a pacifist from Fisherman's Horizon, on separate stretches of course. Xu would have been happy to see what looked like a broadening horizon for Quistis, if not for the fact that she kept the Galbadian connection a secret from practically everyone but Xu herself. She didn't want Squall to know about that affair. 

On the other hand, Xu was almost proud of Quistis when she didn't seem to mind the others, including Squall, knowing about her relationship with Siegfried Waller. After all, he fought alongside them when they battled Vesta and Tengu a year ago. The big C word, Commitment, appeared imminent. But unfortunately, it didn't happen, and what looked like a promising romance was cut short by the same sensibility that saw Quistis breaking up with Siegfried because of their conflicting ideologies. 

So that was that. And within a couple of months of losing contact with the pacifist, she was back where she left off.

"Do you think there's at least a remote possibility that Squall might be the one for me?" Quistis had asked her then. _"It's hard to believe anyone would fall this hard and long for someone who isn't really her destiny. It's just too hard to believe. No one deserves to be left out in the cold like this."_

Xu agreed with her. But not about Squall being her destiny. Xu believed that there actually was one man out there for her friend. She believed that fate was just waiting for the right time to reveal her true destiny. So why the long wait? She didn't know. Maybe he was still being groomed for the event. Maybe she wasn't prepared yet. But whatever the reason was, it really was immaterial. What mattered was it had to come for sure.

And Xu vehemently told her friend to wait for that right moment. But did she? _NOOOOOOO!_ Quistis just had to allow things to fall together (or apart, depending on the point of view) in one night as if she had a proverbial death wish. Without any caution or contingency plan, she allowed it to happen, just like that. Quistis gave herself to Squall that night. 

It must have hit her hard when he didn't even remember what happened because he was too drunk. But knowing the instructor, Xu knew that she eventually would turn this into an advantage. Actually, it became more of a fail-safe than an advantage. When Quistis learned that she was pregnant, she used the situation to free Squall from the obligation to uphold his responsibility, if ever he would. For one thing, she didn't need him providing alimony and nothing else. But more importantly, the betrayal had to be kept from Rinoa at all costs. They were the best of friends. She couldn't bear to endure Rinoa's anger in the event that she found out. A third reason manifested much later, but it did little to influence the decision she had already made before she left Garden.

So Quistis made the ultimate sacrifice. She disappeared without telling anyone where she went. Xu knew, of course. She wasn't her closest confidante for nothing. And as should be expected, she was sworn to secrecy. Whenever she thought about it, she wanted to call Quistis up just to nag her. _"I told you so. I told you to wait, didn't I?"_ She had said when Quistis told her about Hunter. But there were no regrets, the instructor declared. Hunter accepted her with open arms despite her condition, and she couldn't be happier because of that. And Xu was also happy for her. But things would have been perfect if she had exercised patience and waited. Quistis wouldn't have needed to hide from everybody. Things would have been a lot better than this.

So in the end, who was the one to blame? The callous Squall Leonhart or the idiotic Quistis Trepe? Xu didn't know, until a couple of days ago. The thoughtless comment Squall made wouldn't have gotten a rise out of her if not for the secret she begrudgingly kept. It was fortunate she was able to stop herself in time. Nine months had already passed since that moment of lunacy in the fabled Balamb Hotel, and Xu was just so aching to blow his mind away. 

QUISTY'S ABOUT TO GIVE BIRTH TO YOUR CHILD, YOU ARROGANT PRICK!!!

No. It would have felt damn good to tell him off like that. But she couldn't. She gave her word.

But like hell will Xu remain friends with that bastard Leonhart.

----------

"I know I've asked you this a gazillion times now but hell, I've become a professional." Kiros quipped. "So? What seems to be the problem?"

"Is that a trick question?" Laguna answered. "Or were you absent this morning and the Kiros we all saw was some sort of an imperfect clone made to look like you but with a flaw that made it unable to wield your charming personality?"

"Cute, Laguna." Kiros smiled. He was almost pleased that a portion of his own wit had rubbed on Laguna over the years of their friendship. "But no cigar."

". ."

"That was a metaphor, Ward. I know this is a No Smoking area. And as for you," Kiros turned back to Laguna, "If you think twenty years of always putting up with your sweet attitude that gets girls to invite you to their hotel room or plaster your broken bones with superglue isn't enough to let me see through that sorry face of yours, you've got another thing coming."

Laguna scoffed. He'd have been amused at Kiros' reference to both Julia and Raine if it hadn't been for the fact that it still stung whenever he was reminded of his late wife. But he let it slide. Kiros and Ward had always been the only two beings on this planet that had the temerity to remind him about Raine and get away with it. Even his own son, Squall, had to be very careful before raising a topic like that.

However, the tone of Kiros' voice was more than the usual oxymoronic friendly derision. Like him, Laguna knew his friend well. And whenever Kiros' started talking that way, he knew he was waiting for an answer.

So what should he tell them? That he was becoming attracted to his foster daughter?

This should be good. If anything, Kiros would set a new record for violent reactions. And Ward too, if he wasn't mute.

"Um" Laguna didn't know how to start. Kiros and Ward crossed their arms simultaneously before them. 

"?"

"Yes?"

"Uhh Theoretically"

".." Ward winced. Kiros too.

"Oh I feel a headache coming!"

"Will you let me finish first?"

"Alright." Kiros said. He prepared himself as one would to the sound of aluminum sheets being sheared by a metal cutter. "Shoot."

"Theoretically, what would you two say if I tell you I'm thinking of going back to the bachelor's life?"

".." Ward grunted, perplexed. So what was so wrong about that?

Kiros wasn't as naïve. "Bachelor as in dating?" He said pensively. "I mean, normal dating? Nothing like what you did to the admiral's daughter during our first boot camp?"

"Yeah. Normal dating. Well, no, not really. Considering the circumstances. But in a way, yes, it's normal dating. But on the other hand no, not really. But then, it would only by popular backlash and nothing more so yeah. But I'm forty-six years old and "

Why am I not surprised? Kiros thought, his hand pressed against his face. He watched for a little longer as Laguna stuttered as though he was arguing with an evil twin brother. But then, he recalled that Laguna just mentioned his age.

"So what if you're forty-six years old?"

"What?" Laguna was interrupted. Ward repeated Kiros' question.

" . ?"

"Oh that. It was ahh nothing. It was nothing."

"'Nothing' is a very dangerous word and should not be overlooked if it's coming from you. It's a word that pushed me to instruct the Lunarside Base personnel to double precautions whenever they start hearing the word Nothing' from you, okay? So what is it? Come on, spill it!"

He was cornered. He knew he would be. Laguna wasn't even sure if he was ready to let them in on his secret dilemma. Maybe he shouldn't. 

But that was all pointless now. Kiros and Ward would never stop hounding him after what he had started. He may as well tell them.

"W-What if I had already seen someone I wanted to date, and that uhh she's younger than me?"

Kiros was still suspicious, but he indulged. "That depends. There are levels and ranges that can be tolerated. Like, if the woman is not more than eight years younger than you, then that should be okay. If not less than eight and not more than ten, still tolerable. More than ten and less than twenty, a little bit pushing it, though I know it's not uncommon. More than twenty years, and I say you're starting to become senile."

"Really?"

"Yeah. So how old is she?"

"Um twenty-four."

"WHOA! HAH! Attaboy, Laguna! Way to go! Jeepers, really! Twenty-four? And you're forty-six, so that's a good twenty-two years separating the two of you. Like, I'm a little relieved you two would be more or less at par when it comes to your mentality."

He wanted to snarl back at Kiros. Even though he usually tolerated Kiros' perennial penchant for sarcasm, there had indeed been times when he just had to check the bounds of insult. But he couldn't do it. His lips became locked with embarrassment. If they thought a man like him dating a girl who was younger by twenty years old was bad, then what he had to tell them should be even more mind rending. 

"So, what's her name?"

Laguna felt his lips warping. He tried to talk, expecting that his voice would also be hindered.

" ellone"

"Really? Wow." Kiros said. "She's even got the same name as our Elle" He was interrupted upon noticing Ward's exasperated look. Kiros' blood ran cold. _It couldn't be_, he thought. Not that Ellone. Not _THEIR_ Ellone!

One look at Laguna's wimpy expression told him all he didn't want to know.

"Laguna A ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!?"

"Me?" Laguna snapped back. "Of course not! You actually thought I was serious with that joke? Come on, guys. Why in Hyne's running behind would I want to date Ellone? I'm old enough to be her father. In fact, I'm the one who stood as her father when she was little. What do you take me for, some kind of maniac pedophile? Geez, please. Am I serious? Are you serious? You actually thought I was serious with that joke? Come on, guys. Why in Hyne's running behind would I want to date"

"Laguna, you're repeating yourself." Kiros cautioned. And it showed it was too late for Laguna to retract his confession. Kiros and Ward were already looking at him funny, as though he had just suggested surrendering Esthar's military secrets to Galbadia.

"You are serious" Kiros muttered. "I can't believe it." Laguna could only lower his head in shame.

Ward patted Kiros on the shoulder while mumbling. The latter sighed in return.

"You're right, Ward." He said before looking back at Laguna. "Laguna, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be too hard on you like that. I just don't know how to react to something like that. I mean you do understand, don't you?"

"No apologies, bud." He answered. "It does sound outrageous." He stared at his long time friend, noting the look on his eyes as though asking him if he really did mean what he said. "And no, I really don't plan on dating Ellone if that's what you're afraid of. I still haven't lost my mind, you know."

"Laguna, if you need female company, I'm sure we can arrange for one with utmost confidential"

"I'm not asking you to get me a girl, Kiros." Laguna spat back. Kiros abruptly went silent. "I'm okay. I have enough problems right now to worry about my own personal needs."

"So meaning, this thing about Ellone" There was that look in Kiros' eyes that projected both puzzlement and sympathy. Unlike him and Ward, who both got married a few years after Esthar had stabilized following Sorceress Adel's imprisonment, Laguna chose to go the way of the widower's life. He didn't have to ask why. Laguna still hadn't forgotten Raine, and her memory served as both a source of strength and a curse for him as Esthar's president and father to his son. In a way, Kiros admired Laguna for this. He used to be skeptical to the _myth_, as he called it, of everlasting love that allegedly had driven scores to run life by themselves, unable to tear away from the reminiscence of the people they loved with all their hearts. Laguna was, as Kiros later termed it, a poster child of the dispelled myth. 

But he was only human, and sooner or later that isolated heart of his would start to search for someone to love once more. There was only so much adoring a departed love could do for a person. As long as people walked on this earth, they will stubbornly seek kindred hearts to whom they could offer their devotion. And Kiros believed Laguna had finally reached that point after almost twenty years.

And come to think of it, Ellone wasn't such an illogical choice. They all spoke in unison (even Ward) when they said she truly had grown into a beautiful woman. The hundreds of letters she received every month from her admirers in Esthar attested to this fact. Ellone truly had come to her own.

Second, they weren't really blood relatives. Ellone was an orphan, an unfortunate victim of a tragic event that saw her real parents gunned down by Estharian soldiers who then were pledged in allegiance to the malevolent Adel. The bullet holes inside her old house in Winhill were testimony to this carnage. It was only through the kind intervention of her neighbors, and particularly a certain flower arranger and pub owner named Raine, that the Estharians failed to capture Ellone. Laguna then came and quickly became endeared to the then three-year old girl. Their bond grew so strong that when Adel's minions finally captured Ellone, Laguna risked everything just to get her back. The series of events thus led to his conflict with Adel and the consequent liberation of Esthar, which installed him to the seat of power and led to his separation from the little girl again when she went back to Winhill without him. Raine died, and Ellone was sent to the orphanage with Squall.

And that, for Kiros, was what made this prospect a little more feasible. It wasn't exactly accurate to say that Laguna raised Ellone as his own. She was five years old when he sent her back to Winhill. Ellone then led a life of travels that took her from her place of birth to the stone house in Centra, where she stayed for four years. When Cid and Edea became aware of Ultimecia and her twisted goal of controlling Ellone, they had her transferred to a ship they had constructed especially for her concealment. There, Ellone lived for more than ten years, and even took it upon herself to take care of the others orphans that sought refuge in the ship. Those orphans eventually grew to become Edea's White SeeDs, who all looked up to Edea and Ellone as their loving caretakers. 

When Ellone turned nineteen, Cid decided that it would be safer for her to stay in Balamb Garden to protect her from that sorceress that sought her mysterious powers. Two more years passed before the Headmaster met with the White SeeDs in a Garden that had transformed into a seagoing vessel, just a few hundred miles north of Fisherman's Horizon. And Ellone once again changed hands. Shortly after that, she jumped from the White SeeD ship on to the deck of an Estharian destroyer. In what little she remembered of her childhood, Ellone remembered the name Esthar, one that she had last associated with her uncle Laguna whom she hadn't seen in years. A yeoman first class confirmed her recollection by telling her that Laguna had become their president.

Seventeen long years Laguna and Ellone lived separate lives. She was still a cute and adorable little girl when he last saw her in Esthar. Imagine Laguna's surprise to see a grown woman, beautiful and alluring, right before him, introducing herself as The Ellone. He could hardly believe his eyes. Laguna was so flabbergasted he nearly forgot to secure the primary life support of his spacesuit prior to inspecting Adel's tomb.

There was no telling what kind of emotional overhaul the two of them underwent during those seventeen years. As a child, Ellone loved Laguna like a close uncle at the least, and a second father most likely. But a child's memories had often proved fleeting at times, and emotional memories specifically can transmute through the years. Ellone still had been professing her love for Laguna shortly before they met again. But the question was: what kind of love has it turned into after they had gotten together again? The two had been living under the same high-tech roof for the last two years. It may have seemed like it was merely yesterday when they shared meals on Raine's table. But that yesterday was seventeen years ago. Things were so different now. Laguna was much older, but in all respects at the prime of his life. And Ellone was a grown woman. Could it just be possible?

Unknown to many, Kiros had a Psychology degree. He unwittingly thought about the Electra syndrome. _Scary_ He shivered in thought.

Okay, so it may be feasible for a Laguna and an Ellone to be together in more romantic terms. But here entered the heaviest issue: the opinion of those close to them. The sad fact about life, sometimes, was that people just can't insist to live the way they wanted. Man was basically a social animal (though Kiros abhorred the idea of man being in the same class as animals and monsters – he had never subscribed to evolutionary concepts, and had always believed in man's superiority over other life forms), one that moved and interacted within a community of his kind. Yes, man shared an almost symbiotic and definitely codependent link with other species, but to each other he shared a far deeper relationship than that. 

It was from this fact that man had learned to value other people's opinions about him. That was why they had social norms, guidelines of behavior unexpressed on the written medium but understood by all who had the sense to use their brains. And among these social norms was that thing called ethics, which stated among others, that it was forbidden for a man to see a girl he had virtually adopted in a romantic light. Though technically it wasn't incest, some people just didn't have the mind to see the difference.

How would Squall react if he'd learned of this?

Laguna probably had thought of this too, or else he would be talking to his son and not to them. But didn't he even consider how they would feel about it? Didn't he even think that Kiros and Ward might have been two of those who couldn't tell the difference?

This doubt was evident in Kiros' eyes when he looked back at Laguna. "I don't know, Laguna. If what you're saying is true, this thing about Ellone isn't one that'd go away just like that." Laguna looked at him, his face bearing an incredulous look as though he had suddenly seen the awkwardness of the situation.

"I am losing my mind, huh." He said. "I should've taken you on that getaway suggestion to Costa del Sol. You're right, I think I've been working too hard."

Possible. Kiros also considered the vacation prospect seriously. For one thing, it had been too long since he got a tan.

But who could possibly think of going away at a time like this with an asshole like that hugging the limelight?

".." Ward scowled as his attention wandered to the 45-inch projection TV.

"I know, Ward. He's becoming bolder and more arrogant with each passing day. Just a few days ago Markkon was in Timber. Now he's in Deling City of all places."

"SeeD Haters capital of the world." Laguna mumbled. Before them, the cable TV was showing coverage of Zeilgr Markkon speaking before the more affluent of Deling City's constituency in a posh gathering sponsored by the Galbadia Rotation Club. And it wasn't surprising for them that the crowd was exceptionally receptive of the governor's speech, most of them being in one way or another close associates of the late dictator Vinzer Deling. Markkon was espousing the same anti-Garden gospel that Deling had promoted during his regime. If Laguna, Kiros and Ward had been more paranoid, they would have started to suspect a possible hidden transaction between Markkon and some of Galbadia's elite.

Then Laguna thought, a little paranoia certainly wouldn't hurt in these troubled times. Who said such a conspiracy wasn't possible?

"Guys, we may have to deal with Markkon a little more directly."

"Tell me about it."

""

"I need to talk to General Caraway."

----------

Dollet's Central Square had to be one of the busiest locations in the bustling city. Day in and day out, the place had been witness to different kinds of people from different walks of life; from the young man who would always wait near the convenience store for his girlfriend who had been waiting for him at that same moment by the entrance of Dollet Pub, to the soldier tasked to keep people out of the alley that led to the Communication Tower and the elderly people who often sat by the water fountain to while the time away. 

Tourists and artists also frequented this spot, and used this as a launching point for their urban expeditions that almost always ended up to a night of rest at the classy Dollet hotel. Dogs abounded too. But the dogs here had assumed the peculiar behavior of ignoring cats. Some observers say this was because most of the canine population had been uncharacteristically traumatized when some time ago a giant robot spider thundered across these very streets. They seldom roamed around anymore. They either stayed by the door of commercial establishments or simply stayed home.

Marcus Derlini had grown to love Dollet. This was a nice town, where the old and new blended quite well in a flavorful stew of both culture and advancement. He loved the fact that he can buy his electronics here and at the same time walk in perfect peace from one end of the town where a car rental shop was located to the other, which was right by the sea and headquarters to a prominent yachting club. Of course, there was also Dollet Pub, the ballroom house, and the painting galleries. In short, there was simply so much to do in this town.

But right now, he hardly had any time for anything. Even his duties as permanent Garden liaison to the Dukedom Office had to take a back seat in light of this far more pressing agenda. Despite the generous accommodation at a nearby SeeD outpost, Marcus had decided to check in at the hotel. He wasn't meeting anyone, he just needed a room from where he could have a perfect view of the store right across the street.

Marcus had been on a stakeout for four weeks now, watching from his small hotel room that had been slightly transformed into an observation post. His objective: a teenaged boy, approximately fifteen years old, who visited the store everyday like clockwork. He would always arrive at around 3:30PM to get some groceries, drop by the drug store just inside the shop, and then leave at exactly 4:05PM. Someone must have been controlling his Rolodex, Marcus wryly suspected. This kind of organization and timeliness as though he was observing a strict schedule wasn't typical for nearly anyone his age.

In retrospect, he wouldn't have given it a second thought if not for some little things he noticed as the days went by. Marcus first observed the boy when he went to the frozen meats section to get a slice of rib-eye steak. Marcus was a Trepie. He was Trepie Groupie #1. He was the president of the Trepies. He admired Quistis so much that he still believed he was in love with her. And he knew that her favorite food in the whole world was a nice well-done rib-eye. But the fact that the boy got one didn't do more than to remind him of his beloved instructor and colleague.

But as the days went by, telltale clues started coming in. Marcus first became suspicious when he noticed a pattern in the boy's shopping list. Saturday: mostly toiletries and other kitchen and house-cleaning stuff. He was off Sunday. Monday: sweet corn and chicken. Tuesday: mixed vegetables. Wednesday: fish. And not just any fish. Fresh salmon, also one of Quistis' favorites. Thursday: pasta. And that Friday rib-eye feast. Rica Stepanicci once served rib-eye steaks every Friday for the whole of October last year in celebration of the instructor's birthday. If there was a person in Garden who deserved a month-long birthday treat, it had to be Quistis.

Just a coincidence? He tried not to think so. If this guy was in fact Quistis' runner for her everyday needs, he must know where she lived. It had been six months since she left Garden, and Marcus missed her like crazy. That was probably why he refused to confirm his suspicion, he was afraid of the disappointment in the event that he was wrong.

But when all this Zeilgr Markkon controversy exploded and the boy started buying newspapers and magazines that had special reports on the governor and his beef with Balamb Garden, Marcus' chest started pounding again. Who could this person be to have such an interest with the Markkon-Garden feud? He tried to recall any SeeD that had resigned or disappeared during the last year. He ran the names he could remember in the telephone company and Internet people finders. Nine checked out, and four were unaccounted for. One of the four has got to be Quistis. But he didn't know for sure.

Marcus became obsessed. He tried to run a background check on the boy and found out that he used to be a Dollet cub scout before his parents went bankrupt from a dubious business dealing, and the boy had to drop out of school. He had been doing a lot of odd jobs since then, most of them running errands for small shops and fruit stands. He had checked on the boy's former and current clients to try and eliminate all the nobodies. None of them were paying for his time between 3:30PM and 6:00PM.

His investigation was momentarily cut short when he was assigned to conduct a SeeD exam in Battleship Island together with the pigtailed girl, Iris Deen. The post-exam process took longer than he expected, and Marcus managed to return to his original task of Dollet Dukedom liaison only yesterday. He had just resumed his surveillance of the errands boy a few minutes ago, even though he was afraid that his trail had grown cold because of the length of time that he had been gone. The dark-skinned SeeD groaned nervously. The boy was five minutes late.

BINGO! His mind shot out when the familiar sight of the young lad who shopped systematically appeared from the boutique alley. Excited, Marcus turned the whirring port of his self-focusing surveillance telescope towards the boy. He peered into the eyepiece with great anticipation.

"Oh Oh man!" He stuttered, adjusting his position to get a better view of the boy. The loud pounding on his heart intensified even more when he became sure of what that bright yellow thing was protruding from the boy's backpack. The tip of the elongated object bore a sharp blade, a golden sharp blade.

There was no doubt about it. Marcus was looking at the Save The Queen.

"I knew it! I KNEW IT!!!"

----------

"Comiiiiing!" Quistis hollered at the furious knocking on her door. She was a bit agitated. It was already past six and the runner she paid to bring her groceries hadn't arrived yet. If it was the boy, he was extremely late. And she didn't like having late dinners. No tips for him today.

Her annoyance turned into shock when the door swung open.

"Instructor! I knew it was yo" Marcus started animatedly. However, his voice was suddenly blocked at the same time that his chest became a cacophony of intertwined perplexity and shock. It was Quistis all right. But her stomach

"What the hell is this?"

He went pale as a corpse. Quistis' face turned into chalk.

"M-Marcus!"

End of Chapter V

* * *

The FT3 Timeline

A Walk By The Old Trail (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=40044) – 18 years before FF8

To Love Again (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=21300 – 13 years before FF8

Balamb Morning (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=40035 – A few hours before FF8

FINAL FANTASY VIII

Of Fire Crosses and Wishing Stars (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=21051 – FF8 In-game

Day Of Deliverance – FF8 in-game

A Loving Betrayal (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=40040 – FF8 In-game

THE FOURTH UNIVERSE (TFU - http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=171583) – 1 year after FF8

Danger Girls (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=188818) – 2 months after TFU

THE PURITY GRADIENT by Astarte (TPG - Under major revamping) – 3 months after TFU

"Have You Seen My Feet?" - Flipsides Tales 1 (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=43732) – 2 months after TPG

Heartstrings - Flipsides Tales 2 (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=43733) – Simultaneous with "Have You Seen My Feet?"

The Remembrance Flashback (See The Remembrance) – 3 months after TPG

Hero by Brightangel – 4 months after TPG

The Sword, The Fist and The Gun (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=40034) – 5 months after TPG

Tour De Force (TDF - http://members.tripod.com/DarkDimensionJM/tdfmain.htm) – 3 days after The Sword, The Fist and The Gun

True Destiny (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=175737) – 4 days after TDF

The Hardest Thing – 5 day after TDF

Queen Of Souls (QOS - http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=173442) – 10 days after TDF

The Remembrance (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=21302) – 4 days after QOS

Secret Secrets – 2 weeks after QOS

Substitute Saviors (Sub Saviors - http://www.ffonline.com/community/forums/showthread.php?s=66b9945b2e9b29b04ec9071e83d3a333&threadid=158) – 3 months after QOS

A Dream At Knight's End (http://www.ffonline.com/community/forums/showthread.php?s=66b9945b2e9b29b04ec9071e83d3a333&threadid=2062) – Sub Saviors concurrent 

Catching Flies With Chopsticks – 1 week after Sub Saviors (Coming Soon)

Through The Crosshair – 2 months after Sub Saviors

Never - 2½ months after Sub Saviors (To be posted)

A Thousand Cuts by Astarte (http://astartefics.homestead.com/files/FF8thousand.htm) – 3 months after Sub Saviors, UFF concurrent

UNFOLDING FATES (UFF) – 3 months after Sub Saviors, 6 months after QOS, 9 months after The Remembrance Flashback, 1 year after TFU, 2 years after FF8

????????

The White Uniform (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=21303) – A few thousand years after FF8


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 2** **SEED OF STRIFE**

There was something about that uniform that had been making him walk with head held high.  He wasn't sure if it was the regal dark green shade or the ornate multi-color decoration of the collar area.  Or maybe it was the prestige it carried.  After all, those who had worn this uniform before him had done so with the same amount of bravado.  It was akin to an X factor – it was there, they knew it, though they couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.

Why was he thinking about it anyway?  The important thing was the splendid SeeD uniform that had brought much honor to those who had worn it and their parents was draped all over him right now.  Rowan King brandished the apparel with much pride.  He couldn't be prouder if he had gone to the top of his junior class.  And even though his towering companion, the solidly built Hakeem Genaro, was also clad in the same clothing, he knew he had an extra special reason to soar on his wings.  He was the youngest ever Garden cadet to wear the uniform.  Merely fourteen years of age, he had garnered the reputation of edging the celebrated Quistis Trepe from the honor of being the youngest SeeD in Garden history, a distinction she had established when she was fifteen.  Who wouldn't be proud?

Never mind the rule that required students to reach the age of fifteen before being eligible to the SeeD exam.  In fact, it only added another feather to his already teeming cap.  Being declared an exception due to his outrageously high grades was not something to be downplayed.  It was the first time it happened in Balamb Garden.  And Rowan just couldn't help feeling as though he was on top of the world right now.

"Hey, how yah doin'?" He said proudly at a group of giggling sixteen year old girls who were gawking at him in admiration.  Ah yes, the usual stroll in Balamb town had never been this glorious.

"You really are sucking it all in, huh." The hulking Hakeem Genaro said amusedly.  "Makes you feel you can take on everybody?"

"You have no idea." He answered.  "I'm da man!  I gots the powah!  I can kick Ultimecia's butt back to the stone age!"

"Hey kid, don't let it get to your head.  You may be in the record books now, but that doesn't mean you're top SeeD.  You haven't even mastered Forbidden class magic yet."

"Who needs it when I can run rings around enemies before they could even say 'Meteor'?" Rowan snapped back.  "Even that bonehead Roddy Simms knows better than to mess with me now.  Remember how he used to bully me before?"

"Heh!  Who wouldn't?  I'd pick on you too if you kicked me on the shin."

"He deserved it.  He was a traitor, remember?  He sided with those dorky faculty members and the Garden Master during the mutiny.  He shoulda been kicked out of Garden because of it, but I don't know why Headmaster Cid pardoned him."

"He pardoned everybody who went against him in the mutiny." Hakeem clarified.  "I think it was the right move.  Half of the students would've been gone if he kicked all the mutineers out."

"Some did leave, right?"

"Yeah.  Lame-ass idiots.  They used the mutiny as an excuse to cover up their failing grades.  And the funny thing is where those dorks ended up."

"Where?"

"In the Citadel.  You know, that new military academy Governor Markkon set up in Winhill.  I heard quite a few of 'em just enrolled like Megus, Auron, Fei and Savos."

"So that's where Auron went." Said Rowan.  "Heh, at least Citadel's becoming good at something."

"What's that?"

"Accepting Garden rejects, what else?  Maybe they should pirate Arturo Hagel too and get it done with." Rowan quipped.

Hakeem frowned slightly.  "Come on, dude.  Don't be so hard on the poor guy.  He's not the only one who's already failed five SeeD exams.  What about Mr. Royal Pain?  You have any idea how many times he failed before finally becoming a SeeD?"

"Who?  Seifer?  He's different.  Actually, he's quite brilliant, in his own way.  But he failed because of that big stick up his ass that kept him from following orders.  Arturo's simply dumb."

"Ah, whatever." Hakeem dismissed the subject.  As much as he could, he'd try to admonish everyone to refrain from speaking ill against Arturo Hagel, who happened to be a friend of his.  But sad as it was, he had to accept that those criticisms hurled at him were true.  He was a poor student, whose acceptance in Garden had been a subject of many questions.  It was in fact a miracle that the scholastic staff still allowed him to enroll for this school year, especially considering the serious debacle he got involved in just prior to the school break.

--------------------

Author's Note: See Chapter II

--------------------

The conspicuous duo continued their trek across town, with hardly anything preoccupying them other than the usual dainty sights that had been a perennial attraction to residents and tourists alike.  They eventually reached a small pub that looked like it came straight from an old western by the appearance of the twin swinging front doors.  Hakeem gestured to Rowan before proceeding inside.  The junior SeeD promptly followed, swinging the door open with flair.

Inside, the pair wandered their eyes around first, noting the near-emptiness of the establishment.  It was just an hour past lunchtime anyway, and places like this didn't start filling up until five, or what was more popularly known as happy-hour.  Hakeem then went for the bar where a luscious female bartender maintained her post.  He looked at her, admiring her gentle face, long black hair and shapely body hardly concealed by a white midriff and very short skirts.  He noted her eyes were almost glowing blue.

"Hey doll.  How's it going." He said.  He thought she looked awfully familiar.  "Your name wouldn't happen to be Tifa, would it?"

She smiled sweetly at him.  "_Tee-hee!_ No.  It's April.  But I do get that a lot." The bargirl said with a giggle.  "I don't get too many SeeDs in this place.  So what'll it be?"

"I'll have a Superdry." Hakeem retorted with a grin.  Rowan quickly followed suit.

"I'll have what he's having."

April eyed him dubiously.  "Sorry, no alcohol for minors."

"But I'm a SeeD.  Can't you tell from my threads?"

"SeeD or not, NO ALCOHOL FOR MINORS.  And you look barely thirteen by the way I see it."

"Hey, I'm fourteen already!" Rowan spat back.  "And what's with this underage limitations crap?  Why do adults always insist that us minors can't hold our liquor?"

"You're arguing, right?" She said.  "The fact that you're insisting means you can't handle being drunk.  So give it a rest." 

"What?  And ALL adults can?"

April paused in thought before answering.  "Well, if you put it that way, some grownups can be worse off than minors when they're drunk.  Actually, sometimes I think about selecting the kind of people to whom I'll serve beer and stuff.  But I don't own this place so I really don't have the freedom to do that."

"Exactly." Rowan said.  "Some grownups can be very irresponsible and do a lot of crazy things when they're drunk.  Why do people even insist on drinking alcoholic stuff anyway?" He added while eyeing Hakeem.  "As if it does one bit of good to get drunk."

"Nothing's too bad when done in moderation." April answered.  "What peeves me are those ridiculous people who drink themselves nearly to death and then regret it the next morning.  But by late afternoon they'd forget again and start drinking again.  It's just not worth the time and money if you ask me."

"Uh-huh.  Getting drunk is UNCOOL!" Rowan agreed.  "So I'll have a rootbeer instead."

"Here." April slid a mug of the dark and foamy.  "And it's on the house on account of you're so smart."

"Hey!  What about me?" Hakeem reacted.  But Rowan quickly nudged him.  "What?"

"Get a load of that." He answered, pointing towards the wall-mounted TV.  He did, and was mildly alarmed at the footage being shown.  But when the new SeeD realized what was really happening, his mood quickly shifted to a darker hue.

"Damn that arrogant fool!" Hakeem blurted out.  "He's crap's all over the place!"  On TV, the serious face of a Balamb newscaster was being shown, with video clips from an event that happened the previous night in the Galbadian capital, Deling City.

_"This was the footage taken last night at the historic City Arch of Deling City, where hundreds of people massed around in response to a call for public disobedience issued by controversial Winhill governor, Zeilgr Markkon.  Galbadian correspondent Carter Dai was on the scene to describe the chaotic event."_

As the trio watched, the footage enlarged from a box inset into full screen, showing the throng of visibly agitated Deling City citizens shouting, cheering and throwing their fists in the air in rousing support for the Winhill governor, who was then standing on top of a sedan in the middle of the crowd while facing the Galbadian Presidential Residence.  Above the din, the voice of newsman Carter Dai struggled to be heard.

_"The commotion actually started in the Deling City Rotation Club convention being held at Galbadia Hotel.  Zeilgr Markkon, who was invited as guest speaker, spoke mainly about what he described as the precarious state of world peace and individual freedom and Balamb Garden's role in exacerbating the situation.  Eyewitness reports are sketchy at best, but they seemed to agree on an account that Markkon stimulated his audience to march out into the streets, where he continued his speech, in the process attracting the attention of shoppers and bystanders.  It's quite a bizarre sight, since we don't often see the conglomeration of Deling upper and middle class people in a single event.  The last time we saw something like this was during the ill-fated proclamation of Sorceress Edea Kramer as Galbadian ambassador two years ago.  And we all know how it eventually turned out.  Many are afraid this impromptu protest rally might end up in the same mayhem.  Already, riot policemen are massing at the scene, most of them taking positions in front of the Presidential Residence."_

They continued to watch wide-mouthed as the noise coming from the angry crowd rose to a thunderous mélange of expletives and profanities, aimed mostly at Galbadian President Richard Caraway.  The camera shifted from the mob towards the Presidential Residence and its human fortification of riot policemen, then back to Zeilgr Markkon.  It was clear the media men's microphones had focused on him.

_"Vinzer Deling may have been a dictator, and we cannot argue with the kind of atrocity he led.  But no matter what disservice he did to Galbadia, we can't deny the truth that he was on the right track with his absolute policy regarding Garden non-intervention in matters involving inter-state events.  From the start, President Deling knew the danger of allowing those so-called SeeDs to rise to power."_

"'Rise to power'?" Rowan exclaimed.  "What the hell is he talking about?"  April shushed him gently.

_"And what has President Caraway done to preserve this important legacy?  He's using taxpayer's money to further Garden's imperialistic regime.  He's using the people's money to have those SeeDs establish their bases here and in other cities.  Don't you find it ironic?  YOUR MONEY is being used to undermine Galbadian sovereignty, your own country's sovereignty!  What kind of a government would do something like that?  What kind of leader would uphold the policy of what is effectively a rival nation to set up protectorates for the sole purpose of taking control of the world's armed forces?"_

"That's ridiculous!  Garden doesn't have such a policy." Hakeem shot out.  April shushed him too.

_"Why, you ask?  It just happened that we share the same misfortune as those poor people of Esthar.  They had to put up with President Loire and his all-out support of Garden even despite knowing that he was really doing it for his son, Squall Leonhart.  Who do we have?  The legendary General Caraway, father to Rinoa Heartilly, who also happens to be a SeeD.  Coincidence?  I think not!"_

They had no argument there.  Though they firmly believed that the Garden Provisions Act signed by President Loire and General Caraway had nothing to do whatsoever with Squall and Rinoa, they also knew that that fact could easily be abused by anyone who had enough motive to do so.  And Markkon certainly was doing a splendid job in twisting what was really an irrelevant issue.  The three continued to listen.

_"In the first place, those vaunted SeeDs are just teenagers!  Would you, sovereign people, be allowed to be robbed of your privacy?  Of your freedom?  Of your very lives, by a bunch of so-called warriors who are young enough to be your children?  Would you allow your kids to tell you what to do?  Would you allow those youths who are still wet behind the ears to exert influence over a huge range of issues concerning the state of your nation?  NO!"_

A cacophony of voices rose, shouting NO's and NEVER's in thunderous unison.  Rowan couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"That is a crock of shi'te!  This Markkon is lying through his teeth!  How could the people believe something like this?"

"Why is it there anyway?" April asked the two.  "Why are those SeeD outposts in those cities in the first place?"

"What?" Hakeem snapped back.  "Don't tell me you believe that blowhole."

"I don't." April answered.  "I've always been pro-Garden.  I don't know if you remember me, but our band had a gig there during the Garden Festival.  We were the ones wearing those imitation Garden uniforms.  But I do wanna know why you set up those outposts.  They can be easily misconstrued, you know."

"I thought you look familiar." Rowan said.  "Anyways, as for the outposts, we were taught that there were merely there to facilitate the consultation missions we regularly have."

"What's that?"

"It's like this." The junior SeeD continued.  "Ever since the second sorceress war ended, Dollet had been calling Balamb Garden regularly to train their troops in different aspects of field and battle maneuvers.  I think it was a direct result of how easily Galbadia mopped their forces up before the reopening of the communication tower.  Somehow, it caught on with other cities like Timber and Toronto who had started to raise their own fledgling military forces.  So we decided that instead of sending SeeDs on a monthly basis to and from our clients, it'd be better if we establish those outposts and have someone live there as Garden liaisons for a period of time.  For instance, Marcus Derlini is our current liaison for Dollet."

"So it's only for training purposes, I see." Said April.  "But you should have foreseen that something like this could be easily used by anyone who intends to ruin Garden's reputation.  Like Mr. Markkon."

"Frankly," Hakeem said, "Who'd have thought something like this would happen?  Especially about Markkon.  He used to be pro-Garden himself as far as I can remember.  That's why it's beating the hell out of us trying to figure out what has been making him act this way."

He looked at Rowan, and noticed the startled expression on his face while looking out towards the direction of the pub window.  "Hey dude, what's wrong?" Hakeem asked while following his line of sight.  His jaws also fell because of what he saw.  Throughout it all, April was also following their eyes and had similarly locked on the figure that nailed their attentions to place.  She couldn't help feeling a little impressed.

"Wow.  He sure travels a lot." April remarked.  Just outside the pub and across the street from it stood the popular Balamb Hotel.  And parked in front of it was a stately stretch limo, from where the infamous Zeilgr Markkon was getting off.

----------

It was almost ironic, he thought.  Only a few days ago Zell was in the Garden hallway, in all respects secretly, talking to Selphie about the things that they should, shouldn't, and were actually doing behind everyone's back.  He remembered feeling the impetus to disregard everything.  He recalled a near willingness to a deed of betrayal.  Now, the person who would receive the bitter end of that possible treachery sat in pleasant company with him, in his own room that he had always held sacred.  Zell remembered how he refused Squall and Quistis entry to his room, the same room that Irvine had been granted free access.

Betraying his best friend, snuggling secretly with his girlfriend, and then sharing a male bonding moment with him… The irony of the situation was so appalling and yet morbidly amusing at the same time, he didn't know what to think of himself now.

"Heh heh heh!"

"What's so funny?"  Zell asked, acting nonchalant.   Irvine turned to him with a grin, and then tossed the fake Timber Maniacs magazine by his side.

"Where'd you get this?"

"Oh that."  Said Zell.   "Ma got it from this loony character who claimed to be a journalist.   You remember the guy, the one who gave us all those stupid clues when Galbadia took over this town."

"Oh him."  The gunslinger recalled.   "Figures.   It's just like that dingbat to come up with something like this."

"Hey, easy with this stuff.   This is the only fake Timber Maniacs magazine in existence.   I could sell it for a fortune someday."

"Hah!   As if someone's actually gonna shell out for this load of crap."   Irvine laughed.

"Laguna would, I think." Zell suggested.  "Remember he used to be a contributor for the original Timber Maniacs publication.  This thing should be some kind of a novelty for him."

"Sh'yeah." Irvine nodded.  "Which reminds me about this crazy crush Selphie used to have on him."

"Really?" Zell turned in attention, though he tried to keep himself from looking too interested.  "I didn't know that."  Selphie had never told him that she had a crush on Laguna.  Sure, he may have heard her say how cute he was back when Ellone was sending their consciousness to the past, but he never took it seriously.  Or maybe he simply didn't care about those remarks back then.  Why should he care about Selphie's crushes anyway?

Taken in the 'now' timeframe, Zell knew exactly how to answer that question.  And right now, he just wanted to know more about this crush Selphie had on their commander's father.

"What's to know?" Irvine answered.  "It was nothing serious.  What's on your mind?"

_Uh-oh…_ Zell thought in mild alarm.  Was he becoming that transparent?  Did his action suggest enough to tell Irvine he had a vested interest on Selphie?  For a while the martial artists didn't know how to react, fearing that anything he did might end up too bland or excessive.  He chose instead to change the subject.

"Oh!  I forgot.  Did you read about that case report filed by Iris the other day, about the Battleship Island incident?"

"It's just so like you to talk about work on your day-off." Irvine shot back.  "Come on, man.  Didn't we agree on this before?"

"Sorry."  Zell said.  "But you know my humble friggin' self couldn't contribute much when you start talking about girls.  The only time we agreed on this subject was after Athena dissed your beach invite last New Year." He added, almost snickering.  Irvine's face darkened.

"She didn't diss me.  She just said she's already going out with someone else, that's all."

"Heh!  How many definitions to the term would you like me to enumerate on the word 'diss'?  I could think of at least three that apply to you, in my sleep."

"You asshole!  Like you're such an expert.  I'd like to see you someday trying your luck with other girls besides Iris.  Last I heard, you only started dating her because she initiated everything.  You didn't have to go through the eye of the needle like other guys do."

Zell's grin lost a little verve from what Irvine said.  _Been there, done that._ He said in his thoughts.  Part of him was almost sorry.  The escapade in question would have made an excellent topic for boy talk with Irvine if it hadn't been Selphie who was involved.

On a deeper note, Zell had been looking for someone to talk to about his problem with Selphie.  Irvine was his best friend, so he was the natural first choice.  But he was also Selphie's boyfriend.  And Zell was officially adjudged sane during his last psych evaluation so he couldn't see any reason why he'd do something as incredibly crazy as telling his best friend that he had already slept with the girl he loved.

Zell then thought, maybe he should try talking to Squall.  But what could that guy know about affairs, one-night stands and similar dubious exploits?  He was too loyal to Rinoa he wouldn't look at a naked woman if she were lying spread-eagled on his bed.

"Why?" He countered, trying to dismiss his guilt.  "What rule book states that a relationship should only be initiated by guys?  Look at Squall and Rinoa."

"Squall was a lamp post.  And Rinoa's as flirty as they come.  It doesn't count."

"I'm telling Rinny you said that!"

"She's proud of it!"

"Oh yeah…" Zell trailed.  Memories of fingers mocking hypnosis and steady chants of 'You're-going-to-like-me; You're-going-to-like-me' came back to mind.  "Heh, you win."

Irvine pondered for a moment before talking again.  "But I guess that makes them a perfect match.  One is neck-deep in grimy realism, while the other's off her feet with too much idealism.  When you think about it, they really serve to neutralize each other.  Rinoa pulls Squall out of the mud hole, while he pulls her down from the clouds."

"And since when did you become the psychological type?" Zell retorted with a rhetorical question, to which he quickly followed with his own thought.  "Nida and Xu could make a fine couple too if you think about it.  Nida's a creampuff, while Xu's a crowbar."

"Yeah.  And we'd see Garden's first man-and-wife in reverse order if your assessment goes down." He quipped.  "You know who people say could also make a good pair?"

"Who?"

"You and Selphie."

Zell was dumbfounded, the statement blasting into his ears like a bomb of flattery.  If Irvine only knew how elated he felt with that remark.  But then, his mind quickly reverted to automatic paranoia.  Why did Irvine say that?  Was he starting to become aware of what had been happening behind his back?

"Bullshit." He shot back.  "Whoever gave you that dumb idea?"

"Well, it's becoming the rave among those sophomores posting in the message board dating thread.  They said you and Sefie look so good together.  Xu tried to moderate the thread, she must be worried that I might get offended.  But all hell really broke loose when someone opened the case file on Ulyard Earl Kipman.  It was clear they were impressed by how the two of you plowed through that army of eco-terrorists.  They even came up with a couple of names for you two."

"What names?" Zell asked, then felt like pounding himself in the head for doing so.

"Let's see…" Irvine thought deeply.  "There's 'The Dream Team', 'Bulldozers', 'Wrecking Crew', 'Angels of Smithereens' which I think is quite cute, 'Irresistible Forces' which I think is _very_ lame, and my personal favorite, 'Tour de Force'.  They said you two were da bomb."

"And…" Zell wasn't sure if he should ask.  "You don't mind seeing all that crap?"

For a moment, the martial artists braced himself for what he thought was a dead giveaway to his guilt.  But his worries were appeased when Irvine hurled him a 'What kind of a question is that?' look.

"Like I'm as lame as they are." The gunslinger said.  "Come on, bro.  You and Selphie?  Sorry for saying this, but I find the idea a little silly."

Zell felt almost insulted and tried to resist asking Irvine why.  He then wished the gunslinger didn't have to add on to his statement.

"Besides, you wouldn't move in on my girlfriend, would you?"

"Of course not!" Zell forced out.

"WOULD YOU?!?" Irvine suddenly gripped him on the shoulders.  Zell tossed a quizzical look at him, and then realized that he was only messing around.  Zell opted to play along."

"Of course not… unless I wake up one day and suddenly realize how hot Selphie really is."

"Good!" Irvine shot back.  "If that happens, you can drool all you want but I'm not going to invite you to a threesome."

The two shared a hearty laugh from that series of exchanges, throughout which Zell had begun to argue with himself.  His laugh became a spring of bitter water with the truth that it was a laugh to hide his act of betrayal.

_You really are a two-faced son of a bitch!_

They then had to abruptly stop laughing when Ma Dincht entered the bedroom.

"Oh dear…" She started.

"What's up, Ma?"

"Zell honey, I got a call from Garden.   This lady was asking for you and said there's an urgent message waiting for you back there."

"Urgent?  For me?"  Zell wondered.   "Hmm, wonder what that is."

"I don't know…" Ma Dincht sighed.   "Pity.   And I just prepared this scrumptious fish just for you boys.   But that can wait.   Guess you had better be going now, huh."

"'Fraid so, Ma.   Sorry about this."  Zell turned to Irvine.   "Hey bud, come on."

The voice of his conscience again hollered accusing expletives at Zell for asking Irvine to go with him.  How could he still call him 'bud' and bite him in the back at the same time? 

And besides, if anything was revealed in his awareness today, it was the truth that among other things, Irvine had now become a rival to him.  It couldn't be avoided, since Zell had accepted that there was no way he could avoid his feelings for Selphie.  So Irvine was now a rival.  Enemy?  No, that would be too overboard.  He was still his best friend.

But some best friend he was to Irvine.  Snuggling secretly with his girlfriend… He wondered if Irvine would be any friendly should he had been privy to the big secret.

The voice was still nagging.  _Keeping your friends close and your enemy's closer, huh?_

_Shut up!_ Zell vehemently argued.  He thought that if he was going to betray Irvine, the least he could do for himself was show that he wasn't doing it with full willingness.  At least he tried to resist, no matter how pretentious it appeared.

"You go on ahead, Zell.   Selphie told me to pick up a few things from the shop."

Selphie told _him_?  Of course.  He was the _official_ boyfriend.

Might as well.  Irvine went shopping while he went back to Garden to snuggle up with her some more.  Zell felt almost pleased about it.

_Shut up, you two-faced asshole!_

"Oh okay.  You want me to leave the car with you?"

No no no, you wacko!  Take the car!  Let him spend more money or take a chocobo.  Or better yet, let him walk.  It'll give you a full day, at least.   

_Shut up!_

"Nahh, you take it.   I'll just rent one from the rent-a-car shop or something."

_See?  He was asking for it. A while ago he claimed someone in the MB declared that you and Selphie are perfect for each other.  Now he's giving you every chance to spend time with her.   You know what?_

What?  That only an unfeeling fool wouldn't notice what had been going on with him and Selphie?  That Irvine most probably already knew for a long time now?

What?  That he was giving Zell leeway?  That he was practically handing Selphie over to him in a silver platter?

What?  That Irvine was virtually asking him to snatch her away?

Or what?  That Irvine was setting them up for a grand expose?  That he was giving them an opportunity so he could catch them red-handed?

_Stop being so friggin' paranoid, fool!  He doesn't know squat.  Go for it._

_Shut up!!!_

----------

"If I were you, I'd do myself a favor and stay away from there." A voice echoed from behind him.  Rinoa heard it, but she remained transfixed on her spot beside the big picture window of her vast bedroom.  It was as though the throng that was gathered outside the house had mesmerized her. 

"Rinoa?" He called again.  This time, she responded with a quick turn about.  Rinoa smiled at the sight that met her.

"Hi dad."

General Richard Caraway smiled back, appreciating her daughter's lively greeting at the same time that he was wondering on how long it had been since he saw her smile at him like that.  It wasn't too long ago, he remembered.  It was merely a month ago that she was here the last time.  And after that, the previous month, and the month after that, and so on and so forth.

It had become a regular activity for Rinoa to visit her father in Deling City ever since they reconciled less than a year ago.  The welcome sight of father and daughter settling their differences was witnessed by a few, but it didn't make the event any less joyous.  Squall Leonhart had been one of those who stood by as Rinoa apologized profusely to the father she had ignored for many years.  And Richard Caraway could do nothing less than thank him with all his heart.  He owed Squall much.  After all, it was the SeeD commander who convinced Rinoa to settle things with him during a quiet talk over the flower field just outside of Edea Kramer's stone house.

--------------------

Author's Note: The above event happened in Chapter 15 of **The Fourth Universe**

--------------------

Father and daughter had seen each other at least ten times since then, and each meeting had been highlighted by much-anticipated recreational activities, things that they used to do before they began having their differences.  Often, they would spend the day away from everyone's eyes, whiling the time away in some small lake ideal for boating and fishing, or hiking on a mountain path they used to visit a lot many years ago.

Every day they did that was a happy day.  Rinoa never thought she'd see the day when her father would hoist her again up his arms to perch her on a boulder too high for her to mount.  General Caraway remembered the last time when he taught her to remove the internal organs of a red snapper.  Both thought previously that those days were gone for good.

Both thought wrong.  And they couldn't be more thankful for that.  Again, Rinoa felt the comfort of her father's arms and heard the voice of the man who promised he will always be her best friend in the whole world.  Again, Richard Caraway heard the sweet voice of the little girl who always said he was her hero.  He again held the hands that in its entirety used to fit inside his palm.  That girl had grown, but to him she will always be his little girl.

They were supposed to be scheduled for a yachting expedition today, and Rinoa had looked forward to this day the same way she did all the other special days of the months during the past year.  She had arrived two days ago, and would have left the day before if their yachting trip had pushed through.  And it didn't because of the turmoil that suddenly erupted by their doorsteps.

"Hello, sweetheart." Caraway returned while giving Rinoa a kiss on the forehead.  He didn't waste any time.  "I'm so sorry it had to happen this way."

Rinoa knew exactly what he was talking about.  "Dad, it's not your fault, okay?" She said while looking back at the crowd that had gathered just beyond their courtyard the day before.  "But this is quite upsetting.  What do they really want from you anyway?"

"Apparently, they want me impeached, dear." He said.  "You saw how Markkon led them here last night.  You'd think a revolution was about to happen."

"I know, I felt the same way too, dad.  Actually, I thought about giving the gang a call last night.  But I realized it may not be the smartest thing to do."

"You're right." The general retorted.  "The last thing we need right now is for that mob to see SeeDs.  That's why I had the Deling Outpost evacuated the moment I heard Markkon was speaking before the Rotation Club."

"So Shane and Daisy are safe.  Thank goodness.  Good thinking, dad.  I heard another group marched towards the Outpost and stripped it bare.  They would have been lynched if they stayed there."

"That's the idea for the evacuation, isn't it?" He answered.  Rinoa looked at her father with loving eyes, grateful for what he had been doing for her for the last year since they reconciled.  This wasn't the first time that General Caraway had gone out of his way to show her how much he cared by extending the same caring hands to her friends in Garden.  She was almost ashamed for the many times they used Caraway Mansion for some of the parties they celebrated with classmates.  But Richard had always smiled her worries away.  It was like they were both living out the years that had been lost in the long stretch of animosity.  Actually, in all respects that was what they were doing.  And even though a year had already passed, there was still a lot of catching up to be done.

"So, how's Commander Leonhart doing?" He asked.  Rinoa was amused by his formality. 

"Dad, it is okay to call him Squall even if he can't hear it."

"Heh, sorry.  Old habits."

"He's okay, dad." She answered, a bit red-faced.  "Like you, he's a little busy right now with conducting Garden affairs despite all this Markkon controversy.  But he's holding out just fine, he's not as high strung as he used to be."

"Is that so?  Then I guess I can sympathize with him."

"You could say that.  Markkon's been giving everyone a hard time…"

"No, I don't mean that, sweetheart." Caraway intermitted.  "I… was referring to the high strung part.  I suppose since he's not so uptight anymore, then that means the old Heartilly charm is working overtime again."

Rinoa paused and looked at him meaningfully.  They may have gone a long while without talking, but she still knew him well enough to know he was driving at something when he spoke with this tone of voice.  Especially when he mentioned 'the old Heartilly charm.'  She never saw it coming, but just the same, a haunting delight started to shine through her heart.  He was remembering her mother again.

"Dad…"

"I gotta tell you.  The first time I met your mom, she was larger than life.  She actually endangered the ever-solid Caraway reputation of poise.  Try to imagine me swooning over a woman."

She found it amusing.  But more so, Rinoa found it immensely touching to know that her father still loved her mother that much.  And maybe the ghost of his own feelings was awakened every time the two of them got together.  People had always said that she was a carbon copy of the late Julia Heartilly.  She gazed at him lovingly as he continued.

"So I really sympathize with Squall, in the positive way, that is.  You both have no idea how lucky I felt when your mom said yes.  She changed me a great deal, perhaps the same way that you've been changing Squall.  You and your mom sure do have a lot of things in common."

She just had to ask.  "Do you still miss her?"

"With all my heart…"

And that did it.  Rinoa had been aching to hold her father since he walked into her room a few minutes ago.  This moment should not be wasted.  Daughter immediately strode towards her father and wrapped her arms around him.

"I miss her too, dad." Rinoa whispered, half-rejoicing and half-sobbing.  "Sometimes I'm thinking that with all our powers, maybe we could find a way to go back in time and save the ones we love.  Maybe I could save mom, and then have her with us again.  Don't you think it's wonderful if we could just do that?"

Richard returned the favor and put his arms around his daughter.  "Of course.  But Rinoa, what's done is done.  Maybe it was written for her not to last as long as to stay with us further.  It's saddening to think that good things like that sometimes had to end early.  But considering the circumstances…"

"Yeah…" She cooed.  She knew what he was driving at.

"We still have each other.  And that alone is already a great blessing that we should be thankful for."

Rinoa nodded, the movement of her head felt by General Caraway against his chest.  Together, father and daughter walked towards the window, where the unwelcome sight of a mob calling for General Caraway's resignation met them.

"Quite a persistent bunch, aren't they?"

"Dad, aren't you worried?" Rinoa asked, herself unsettled by the sight.

"Galbadia's seen worse, honey." He said.  "The thing that worries me is this may just be the tip of the iceberg.  Markkon wouldn't go through all this trouble just to boot me out of my job or shut Garden down.  I'm afraid he may have another agenda besides that."

"We can look into it if you want."

"No." Caraway replied.  "I plan to take this up with Laguna and make it official later on.  But for now, let me tell you that SeeD should not get involved directly with Markkon.  You are not to touch him no matter what happens, understand?"

"Yes sir." Rinoa answered, momentarily relinquishing her position as daughter and assuming the role of soldier and subordinate.  "I understand, sir."

"Good." He said while squeezing her shoulders.  As she continued to gaze at the crowd, Rinoa noticed a faint red flickering light being reflected against the glass window.  She looked back at the dresser and saw that her SeeD communicator was flashing.

"Excuse me, dad." She slithered gently from General Caraway and proceeded to take hold of the device.  Upon pressing the acknowledge button, Selphie's voice began to echo from the communicator.

     "Rinoa?  Are you coming home soon?"

"Sef." She reacted, wondering why Selphie would call her in her father's house.  "I suppose so, since dad can't afford to take a day-off today because of what's happening here.  Why?  What's up?"

"I… I really need to talk to you…"

----------

Irvine waited for the SeeD service car to pass through the Balamb city gates before proceeding toward the shop near the train station.   It was an especially mild and gentle day, one seen infrequently even for a town that enjoyed a pleasantly temperate weather for the most part of the year.  Pity Balamb didn't have those dainty roadside cafes similar to those in Deling City.  Irvine was on the verge of making a religion out of his fondness for places like that.  Despite his renown as a ladies' man, Irvine could still appreciate the peace that accompanied a few moments of solitude.  Though there had been many times when he brought his lady friends to those cafes, there were still more wherein he preferred to be alone.  Deling City's Starbox, the most popular of these cafes, had benefited much from his solitary adventures.

But Balamb had no roadside cafes, so he just had to content himself with a brief walk towards the shop.  On the way, he was mildly startled when a green stretch limo suddenly pulled alongside him.   The gunman's eyebrows met when the driver of the car lowered the heavily smoked glasses.

     "Irvine Kinneas?"

"Yeah…" He steadily replied.

"Someone would like to have a word with you."

"And who might that be?"

"Just get in the car."

Irvine smirked.  He'd seen arrogant, and he had never been tolerant of it.  "I'm afraid we're not on the same wavelength here.   You tell whoever that mook is to come to me.   Otherwise, I'm just gonna go on with my business and pretend that I didn't even see you."

     As the car pulled away, Irvine watched it with a sneer.   "Jerk."  He murmured before continuing on his way.   A few minutes later, he was about to ring on the shop counter when another voice called his attention.

"I resent that 'mook' remark."

Irvine was completely flabbergasted to see Zeilgr Markkon in front of him.

"You?" He cracked almost unbelievingly.   "What do you want?"

"My dear boy, I just wish to have a pleasant chat with you.   You can't honestly fault me for something like that."  Markkon retorted with a grin.

"What's this all about?"  Irvine suspiciously returned.

"You."

"… Me…?"

"Yes."

The Galbadian SeeD thought deeply.   For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what manner of business could this man possibly have with him, considering especially how this same person had been going all out to convince the world of Balamb Garden's alleged plan to take over the world.   What did he want with him?  He looked back at Markkon intently, as though measuring the extent of his malicious capability, and his possible goal in wanting to talk to him of all people.

_A wolf…_ Irvine thought, _which doesn't even bother to wear sheepskin._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

**THE FIRST CUT**

What could she say in a situation like this? She didn't know, and her perplexity became aggravated to desperation level whenever she trained watchful and anxious eyes towards her impromptu guest. Quistis wished she were as brilliant a conversationalist as she was a warrior. She just had to draw his attention away from her stomach.

Yeah, right. Popular instructor suddenly disappeared from sight, leaving everyone hanging at the end of their own questions. Of course, especially the leader of the Balamb-wide groupie who had made a religion out of the adoration of Quistis Trepe. She was gone for half a year, which naturally had created a great impact on the students who admired her the most. Of course, especially the leader of the Balamb-wide groupie who had made a calling out of admiring her. And now, he had stumbled on to her, with her frame five pounds heavier and her stomach bulging with a baby inside. And she thought she could change the subject? Get real!

Might as well play with the music.

"So what do you have in mind?" Quistis asked. Marcus regarded her with a funny look.

"I was thinking maybe the Highwind Rockets should have used a 1-3-1 defense down the stretch last night," he replied sarcastically. "Come on, instructor! What do you think I have in mind?"

That was stupid, Quistis thought. And now, she didn't know what else to say so she decided to stay quiet. A good one minute elapsed before Marcus broke the silence.

"By the way, if I were you I'd hire a new runner. That gremlin almost got away with Save The Queen."

"You mean he stole it? So that's why it's missing…"

"Uh huh…" Marcus nodded. "Not that you'd have any use of it anymore."

She didn't answer, wary that anything she could say would give away the secret she had been holding at bay during the last six… no… nine months. But either she kept her mouth shut or not, Quistis knew of the fate directive that declared no secret could be kept hidden for too long. Especially from someone as inquisitive and obsessed with her as Marcus.

And her worries didn't prove premature.

"If you don't mind me asking… who's the lucky guy?"

Quistis smirked at her former student. "That's a matter of personal business, Marcus," she said. But she hardly expected the discovery to make him uncharacteristically blatant and direct.

"Sure, I suppose I could respect that… if I choose to, Quistis."

She lifted her head up and looked at him directly. Quistis had never heard Marcus address her by her first name, with him always observing Garden decorum out of respect for her. His behavior now worried her. How desperate was he to know who impregnated her?

Apparently, he was desperate enough for the entire Garden populace. "I know it's none of my business, but you know how I've always felt about you from the start. So forgive me if… if I couldn't help myself from finding out."

That would do it, Quistis thought. Although she had been hoping for the contrary, she knew that her secret wouldn't be kept hidden forever. One way or another, it'll blow open, and anyone within a hundred mile radius would be swept along by the shockwave. It was just a matter of time.

And the way it looked, that time had finally come upon her. Quistis knew Marcus, and she knew that he was almost as good a detective as she was. He found her, didn't he? If he put his mind to the task, he could easily find out the truth. And all of the sudden, a chilling fear shot out from her spine.

"Marcus, I know it'd be easy for you to uncover the truth, and I couldn't stop you if you choose to. But I'm begging you, please don't tell anyone."

Marcus' right eyebrow elevated. Why would she want to conceal it? Come to think of it, why had Quistis been keeping her condition a secret from everybody?

One look at his facial expression and Quistis knew she had just committed a fatal mistake.

"It's someone from Garden, isn't it? It's not that Hunter guy, right? It couldn't be him. Case reports said that you two only got together six months ago. And it looks to me like you're ready to deliver any time soon."

She stood up and walked towards the window, her mind a cacophony of anxiety and desperation. Quistis realized there was no stopping Marcus from finding out the truth. And all she could do right now was to beg him to keep it a secret, the way two other people in Garden had been doing during the last couple of months.

"Please…" she said, turning back to face her guest, "I know I could never quell your curiosity. But you have to promise that you won't tell anyone. There's just… too much at stake."

His mind was now racing. Too much at stake? Like what? An endangered friendship, perhaps? Whose friendship?

Marcus had always had the knack for asking the right questions. And as a Trepie, he knew too much about her that perhaps no other people knew save Quistis herself. An endangered friendship? Whose friendship? What was the most logical answer?

He then remembered how some people had alluded the instructor's ties with the SeeD commander. It wasn't a big secret to the Trepies, they had always harbored a mild contempt towards Squall Leonhart for his alleged callousness and utter idiocy for rejecting the prospect of a relationship with a goddess, choosing instead the affection of a lowly princess.

The princess… Rinoa…

Rinoa and Quistis were the best of friends…

An endangered friendship…?

"Friggin' hell…!" he blurted out. "It's Squall, isn't it? IT'S SQUALL!"

He wasn't one hundred percent sure, but that seemed to be the most logical answer. But sometimes, logic still proved inadequate in consideration of some possibly hidden factors. It could have been someone else, Marcus thought. But he just had to ask.

And he wanted desperately to hear her say it wasn't Squall. Let it be someone else, someone who had more sense to know just how lucky he was. But not Squall.

Then Quistis had to bite her lips…

"… It is him…"

She sighed. "If you know me as much as you claim, you'd know I too have a penchant to be idiotic."

"Yeah. Idiotic, I can understand. But…"

"But what? But not being a retard?" Quistis scoffed. "Heh, you sound just like Xu."

Xu Kirishima. The name echoed in Marcus' mind. "Who else knows about this?"

Oh well, Quistis thought. Since he had already forced himself into the club, there was no point in keeping the rest of the members from him.

"Two others. Xu, and…"

The phone suddenly rang. Quistis courteously held two hands before Marcus to before gaiting cautiously towards the phone. One of her hands was holding against the counter while the other supported her hips, and her steps were heavy and deliberate. Marcus couldn't help feeling sorry for her. He never imagined he'd see the vaunted instructor, his idol and love interest, in such a vulnerable state.

"Hello…" Quistis echoed monotonously. Marcus was mildly surprised when she acknowledged the caller. "Doc?"

_Doctor Kadowaki…_ he thought. The other one who knew.

"I know. I already had someone go to town to buy the medications you prescribed. But I'm afraid he won't be coming back anymore."

"_What? Quisty, you need those medicines. You could give birth anytime now. Would you like me to come over?"_

"Yeah… Yeah, I'd appreciate that, Doctor," she said while looking at her guest. "But don't worry about the prenates, I already have someone here who could help me." Her eyes asked him if it was all right. Marcus nodded. Quistis appreciated his kindness, an act that was made difficult by her awareness of his sentiments. She knew that Marcus was immensely disappointed with this discovery.

"_What do you mean? Someone's there with you?"_

"Yeah. It's Marcus."

"_Marc… Oh my goodness! You mean our Marcus Derlini?"_

"Yep. And he already knows everything so next time you meet, don't bother acting clueless or anything like that. He might feel insulted."

"_Tell that to Xu," _Dr. Kadowaki responded nervously._ "And what do you think he'd do once he encounters Squall?"_

"Uh…" she suddenly stammered, "I totally forgot about that. Hold on a sec…" Quistis forgot about the mute button of the telephone, putting a hand instead over the mouthpiece to keep her voice from being heard by the doctor. "Marcus, please. You must promise me never to tell anyone about this."

He looked at her hard. Marcus didn't know if he should pledge to something he wasn't sure he'd do. The darkness on his face betrayed the anger growing in his chest, and it prompted the helpless instructor to go back to the phone.

"Doc, I think I need to go now."

"_Wait. I called to tell you that I'm coming over tomorrow. I'm worried about you, what if you start to go on labor?"_

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow then." She curtly said before putting the phone down. Quistis turned and directly faced Marcus, her eyes now flashing that same old authoritative look of a teacher.

"Marcus, you don't know what happened. You don't understand what really came down between Squall and I."

"What's to understand? I'm a guy myself, instructor. And the only reason why I'd… do that with a girl I don't love is if I want to take advantage of her. That jerk did, to you of all people! He's really got balls doing it and then letting you leave Garden to cover up his blunder. So what else is there to understand?"

"Marcus!" Quistis exclaimed. "You are not acquainted with the facts. Squall doesn't know about my pregnancy. He doesn't even remember that… that… THING that happened between us. It was very complicated and I don't know if you'll understand even if I spend the whole night telling you about it. But the bottom line is you don't know what happened. So please… please… don't do anything rash…"

"Like hell…" he trailed off. Marcus found Quistis' claims extremely hard to believe. What did she mean by saying he didn't know about that thing? What, she drugged him? But Quistis would never do something like that, right? She may be a lot of things, but a desperate girl dwelling on unrequited love she wasn't. She was definitely far stronger than that.

But then, he knew all these angst and confusion were just rigors of his own jealousy. Deep inside, Marcus knew that the reason he was angry was because someone had that golden opportunity, and it wasn't him. Damn, why did he have to always be last when it came to the things he wanted the most?

The realization was so ironic it was almost funny. Resting pensively on the windowsill, Marcus recalled a moment two years ago.

"You know what, instructor? I remember this time when I came across Squall in the cafeteria. I was with Tom then. But actually, I really wasn't with _anyone_. I was too busy thinking about you, of how to get closer to you. You know… even if I'm just your student, I still wanted to be more for you."

His eyes went misty for the briefest moment, but that didn't escape Quistis' attention. She wanted to ask him what he had been seeing in her to feel an affection this great and enduring. But then, she too had been trapped in the same kind of idiosyncrasy, and therefore she virtually had no right to ask that question. Of all people, she should know the answer.

"Anyway…" Marcus continued, "so here was Squall. He talked to Tom because I was too incoherent to answer back. But I know he also noticed me. And you know what?"

"What…?"

"When in all my moronic sense I asked ALOUD what could I possibly do to get closer to you, he looked at me as though I had just lost my mind. It's like he found the idea of liking you totally insane."

Quistis wasn't in love with Squall anymore. Hunter had already cured her of that hopeless affection. But she still had her pride, and an insinuation like that still hurt. She simply chose not to dwell on it.

"That's ancient history, Marcus. People change."

"Is that why you slept with him?"

_Ouch!_

"Marcus…" She sighed. "I may not be your teacher anymore. But don't you think I still deserve some modicum of respect? Even if I'm about to become a single mother?"

Her words came rampaging like a cold salmon that slapped him hard on the face. Marcus reeled, repentant for displaying such a crass attitude. "I… I'm sorry, Quistis. I didn't me to…"

"Don't worry about it," she said, followed by another scoff. "Hmph, you should hear Xu give me the treatment. I mean, I'm an orphan but whenever I'm with her, I can't help feeling like the little sister. She's just so adamant about my affairs."

"She just cares about you," he quickly retorted. "We all do. Especially… uh…"

'_Me.' _She could imagine him saying. Quistis regarded Marcus with a fond look, all the while wondering why people weren't given the ability to order their hearts to love those they had deemed worthy. His admiration for her was all but legendary around Balamb Garden, and she knew everything about it from the start. If she could, she would have directed her heart to return the love he had regarded her all this time. But sadly, that wasn't how things worked.

"I know," Quistis said. "The problem is I never seem to listen to those who cared about me the most. I'm this celebrated instructor who everyone admires and listens to. And I in turn don't listen to the people who care about me. Maybe it's being too egocentric on my part. I don't know…"

"You? Egocentric? Hardly. It's like saying Zell is really shy at heart."

Quistis responded with a chuckle. For a moment, the tension eased, affording her to behave in a manner typical of one delighted to have met a long-lost colleague.

"How are you guys doing anyway?"

"We're hangin' there," Marcus answered. "Although things are a little tough right now with public opinion. I'm sure you're aware of that butthead Markkon and his idiotic campaign against Garden."

"Yeah, I know. And I don't understand that man. I realize he may have been reacting to what happened to his family in Dollet but… it's all so strange. I can't avoid thinking that he may have a deeper agenda behind this propaganda."

"Headmaster Cid feels the same way. The truth is we're all itching to open a couple of books, journals and databases to see if Markkon is somehow involved in under-the-table stuff. But both President Loire and General Caraway are against us taking direct action. They said if things went wrong, it'd only serve to prove Markkon's stupid point."

"I agree," Quistis replied. "If I were there I'd back that decision up. The situation is simply too volatile for Garden to mobilize any form of countermeasure. "

"If only you're still with us, at least we'd stand a better chance of figuring things out without needing to lift a finger."

"I can't. You know that," she countered. But Quistis really felt giddy upon hearing him mention the possibility of her coming back to Garden. Though she hardly had been giving it a thought, Quistis still missed her old home terribly. "If I could, I would. But I can't."

"So what are you planning to do?"

"My plan? Bring my daughter out into the world… and hope she doesn't grow up to be like me."

----------

Rinoa didn't know why Selphie wanted to meet her here of all places. They could always go to the cafeteria, where a corner had been especially reserved for them ever since the Time Compression crisis. Then there was the gala room porch, Rinoa's favorite spot in Garden, from where she had developed the habit of star watching during her free time. They could also have met in either of their SeeD quarters, both of which offered absolute privacy in case they'd be talking about something very sensitive.

But why the Ragnarok cockpit?

It really didn't matter, she ultimately thought. One location was as good as any for a conversation between friends. She was playing with these thoughts in mind when the elevator stopped its ascent to the pilot room, where she saw Selphie sitting behind the flight control panel. Rinoa wondered what could be so important to warrant this urgent rendezvous. What was going on in her mind?

"Sefie?" she called out. The Trabian lass looked at her and smiled. Strange, Rinoa thought. Even her smile was somewhat melancholic. There was definitely something going on. "Hey, girl friend."

"Hi," Selphie returned while turning the pilot seat around to face her. That somber smile was still in Selphie's face as she placed both hands in between her bare knees. She shrugged a greeting at the sorceress, with the latter waving her hand back. "Thanks for coming."

'_Thanks for coming'? _ Rinoa wondered. Whatever happened to _'WHOO-HOO! You're here!'?_

"What's up?" Rinoa asked. Selphie heaved a deep breath, her eyes wandering about the cockpit whose interior was studded with technology. She then let out a sigh, and Rinoa didn't know if it was out of contentment or the lack thereof. But the look in Selphie's eyes reflected fondness.

"I just feel so at home in here," Selphie opened. "It's like… a part of me is right here within this place. Strange, huh."

"Not really. Some things are just homier to some people if you know what I mean. I feel the same way about the porch. Whenever I stay there, I could clear my mind easily and just think about the things that needed my attention. Maybe for you it's this place."

"Yeah. The thing is, I started feeling this way the first moment I flew this ship. You know, when we rescued you from Sorceress Memorial. The pilot seat just seemed to call out to me, as if inviting me to fly. And to think I haven't completed all flight training units yet."

"Uh huh…" Rinoa echoed. She'd pursue the conversation further if she didn't know this wasn't the reason why Selphie asked her here. "So what's up? Pretty strange place for us to meet."

"Like I said," Selphie voiced out, "I feel very much at home here, like I can talk freely about anything and… anyone."

At that point, Rinoa opted to keep quiet to prompt Selphie to start. The latter got the message.

"Oops! Sorry. I hope I'm not taking too much of your time."

More strangeness, Rinoa thought. And since when did Selphie become too meek to ask for her time? This was a girl who liked to tiptoe across the hallway en route to her quarters late at night. And once there, they'd just spend the time having some pleasant girl talk. Sometimes, she had to put up with the cutest pout in Garden if she was too tired or she had to get up early the next morning. But whatever the circumstance, Selphie had never had reservations in asking to spend time with her.

"No, not at all. So what's bothering you?"

Selphie's smile became even more sullen. "What made you think something's bothering me?"

All right. Time to be more direct.

"Sef, we've been friends for a long time now. Don't you think I'm not going to notice your behavior? Come on, girl friend, I can read you like an open book. What's the problem?"

Sure, Selphie thought. It seemed everyone had been reading her that clearly nowadays. But she didn't give a damn about other people. Only those that had been giving her confusion headaches. The thing was, she wasn't used to dealing with serious situations. The last serious situation she had to deal with was the destruction of Trabia Garden, and she didn't fare well back then. Graves of dead friends had never been something one could easily handle given any occasion.

But compared to what had been besetting her right now, Trabia's ill fate was a cakewalk. Tragedies had always had the morbid consolation of offering nothing to struggle against except for the pain of loss. And pain had never been a permanent affair. If a person became afflicted with it, all she needed to do was choke it down and let it pass.

No. It wasn't that simple. What she had right now was a dilemma of the heart. The tearing conflict of having to make a hard decision. Until she could come up with one, the pain of conflict and the fear of loss would always be there. And for the life of her, Selphie couldn't figure out what to do or how to get out of this dilemma.

"Rinny, have you…" she tried to start. And almost immediately, a large block became lodged in her throat. Selphie fought hard to free her emotions. "… ever been in a situation when you know you had to choose between two things… but you couldn't because either one you didn't choose would hurt you?"

_Oh-kay… this is serious. _ Rinoa straightened up and started to pay more attention. "Um… I don't know. Like how exactly?"

Selphie drew a deep breath. She needed all the strength she could muster to express this debilitating problem. "Like… when there are two things you need to do, but you can only do one thing… and the other is… you know…"

Rinoa's eyebrows met. She didn't know what Selphie was driving at. Of course, she had an idea, but she needed more clarity.

"All right, let me rephrase it," Selphie finally said. "Have you ever been in a situation where you're committed to someone and then… unexpectedly… you fell in love with somebody else…?"

"Oh my goodness…" Now Rinoa's mind was clear to Selphie's problem. The first question that came out of her mouth was "Who's the other guy?"

Good, Selphie thought. Rinoa had the sense to be direct. Now all she had to worry about was breaking the actual bad news.

"It's… uh… Zell…"

Rinoa almost laughed. Zell? Was she serious? She couldn't be!

"Come on, Sef. Stop messing around. Who's the guy?"

Selphie accorded her with an incredulous smirk, as though she had just unleashed a stupid joke. But the tears that had started to flow from her eyes told Rinoa that she was dead serious.

"O-Oh no…!" the princess stuttered. "No… I can't believe this…"

"Well, believe it," Selphie insisted, half-chuckling and half-sobbing. Now Rinoa was sure they had a grave situation in their hands.

"Sef… when did this start?"

"That's the stink of it, Rinny!" Selphie bolted up and strode towards the back navigation panel, and made limp kicking movements against the instrument panel's base. "It's been going on for more than six months. It started when Zell and I were sent to that retrieval operation in Trabia. You know, the one when you, Squall and Irvine were in Esthar for the international peace summit."

_The one where we almost died in the underground hangar… _ Rinoa pondered. "It's been going on that long?"

"Y-Yeah. Well… not exactly. Shortly after that, Zell and I realized we're not going anywhere because she's not ready to break up with Iris and I have the same issue with Irvine." Selphie's broken voice continued. "So we agreed to stop what we were doing and just… you know… walk away."

Rinoa's chest began pounding. "Stop what you're doing? What were you doing? Have you two already…" Her voice trailed in the midst of apprehension. Rinoa and Selphie had always been open to each other about everything, and they knew things about each other that they would never dare tell their respective beaus. Still, despite this closeness, Rinoa's voice tapered off. But not because she was ashamed to ask Selphie or thought that it was too private. They'd shared more precarious knowledge about anything and everything. Rather, it was because she was afraid of the answer.

And it turned out she didn't need to ask. Selphie bowed her head as her fists pounded lightly on legs exposed by the shortness of that cute, yellow dress.

"Yeah…" her voice slid out.

"Oh gosh…!" Rinoa stammered, after which her voice dropped down to a whisper. "So what now? Are… are you… pregnant?"

"No, I'm not," Selphie answered loudly. Rinoa shushed her before she continued talking. "I'm not pregnant. But that's not the issue here."

"Then what? Don't tell me. Right now, you're torn between Zell and Irvine, is that it?"

"Sort of."

Rinoa shot an incredulous reply. "'Sort of'?" How can a love triangle have a 'Sort of' setup when it was supposed to be pretty cut and dry? Girl loved guy, guy loved girl. But girl also loved another guy. Of course, the situation was made significantly worse by the fact that guy and another guy were best friends.

Selphie shook her head furiously. "Something like that. But it's more like…" she struggled to continue while her body sagged down as she sat on the floor with knees covering her face. "… I kinda feel in my heart that I love Zell more. But I couldn't accept the thought of leaving Irvine. I don't wanna hurt him. And… Zell said he feels the same way about Iris."

"Oh man… this sucks…"

"Why are you saying that, Rinny? I'm the one who's supposed to say that!"

"Yeah, but… I don't know what to tell you. I'd probably just jump off a cliff if I were in your situation."

"Rinoa, don't tempt me!" Selphie shot back, her tear-drenched eyes squinting painfully at her friend. Rinoa felt as though she had just been knocked out of a trance. What the hell was she saying?

"Oh! No, I didn't mean it that way. But Sefie… I don't know what to say. I've never been in that situation before. The most serious predicament I've had was choosing between Squall and Seifer, and that was before we visited Trabia two years ago. And that situation sort of resolved itself so… no… I don't know what to tell you."

Selphie's head bowed down again, as though she had just absorbed a humiliating defeat. Her body continued to tremble with sobs and muffled wails, projecting a very different picture of a girl whose utter perkiness had been the source of delight for some and annoyance for others. Now though, she was nothing more than a big heap of mess.

It took some time before the stressful silence inside the Ragnarok cockpit was broken by a tentative Rinoa's voice. "So what are you planning to do?" she slowly asked, anxious that in her current condition, Selphie might take her question the wrong way. The pause between her question and Selphie's broken reply was a little shorter.

"My plan?" The Trabian scoffed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just gonna ride this out. Or maybe I'd request a transfer back to Trabia. After all, I've done what I came here to do; I'm already a SeeD. I should have done it a long time ago."

The thought of Selphie leaving stung Rinoa's heart. She had yet to recover from Quistis' departure and now, another one of her best friends was in danger of being separated from her. The prospect saddened her immensely. But like always, she placed her friend's interest over her own.

"Well… if you think that's the right thing to do, then do it. But…" she trailed before continuing. "Try to think about it first. You've invested so much of yourself in this Garden to simply leave everything behind just because of a boy. Try not to act too hastily, okay?"

"Sure. If I'm not dead yet for banging my head against the wall."

----------

He'd never imagined running to hurt this much. Pounding, pumping, pushing and pulling tired, aged legs over one of the most difficult terrains he had ever traversed, he thought he'd die with every excruciating step he took. He guessed it was natural. He was after all, already seventy years old. If it had been fifty years earlier, he could have easily outrun even the most vicious of Mesmerize stampedes. His arms could handily hoist his body up the steepest cliffs. His hands were still strong enough to twirl fifty-pound polearms on each one.

But that was way back in his prime, when he was twenty years old and one of the most accomplished combatants who ever donned the regal green Balamb military ensemble. Now fifty years older, most of his strength had already abandoned him. He guessed it was natural.

Well, it really wasn't. Being seventy shouldn't have relegated him in this weakened state. Not this early. It was something else, something he did in the past that he now regretted. Wanting to find more ways to further his warrior craft, the man with the thinning blonde hair chose to cheat by subjecting himself to an experiment intended to augment his physical prowess. The resulting chaos that saw him witness the murder of an innocent mother made him realize that he had just made the worst mistake in his life.

Now, that very same mistake he thought he had already surmounted had come back with a repercussion that was many folds more serious than before. He thought those interested in his role as a subject for study had already died out, mostly out of their own folly. He thought he was finally free of his error. But no. Almost fifty years of peace had ended on this day when a dozen armed men had begun pursuing him. What could they possibly want?

The answer was almost self-explanatory. Someone had once more taken interest to his role in that hellish experiment, and in the substances that lay dormant in his body. And whoever that someone was, he wanted him bad enough to penetrate through greenhorn morals and send a dozen pair of youthful legs against him. And they weren't pushovers. One look at them and he knew that they were trained warriors. And again, peace had abandoned his life.

The man continued running with hardly a destination in mind. All he wanted to do was get away from his pursuers. He couldn't possibly go through that ordeal again. He wouldn't. He'd rather die first than face the carnage of…

"Hey! I found him! He's here!!!"

Dammit! He was so occupied with looking behind him that he forgot to look in front. One of the hunters had circled around and managed to cut him off. He looked left and right, noting with desperation the high walls of rock and earth blocking all escape routes. He had no choice but to fight his way out of this.

"Not on your life, sonny!" he hollered in an effort to feign the strength he had lost. Leg muscles screamed in agony as he pushed hard to launch himself in the air, two leaden feet plummeting straight down towards his pursuer. The kick connected solidly to send the youngster rolling away. But he wasn't quick enough to pad his fall as his body fell limply on the rocky ground. The old man winced in pain.

_Dammit! I'm too old for this!_

He struggled to lift himself off the ground, but the weight of his long-dormant body and the weakness of his limbs gave enough time for the other pursuers to close in on him. Soon, the old man found himself surrounded.

"Pretty feisty for an old geezer." the leader of the pack grunted. "Now gramps, we don't wanna hurt you so let's just play nice and come along quietly."

"Like hell!" Two hands quickly plunged into the ground and emerged again holding a pair of rocks. He hurled one towards the leader and the other behind him. The rocks connected, sending blood flying from the heads of the two young warriors. "I'm not coming along THAT quietly!"

Taking advantage of the confusion, he started running again. He didn't notice a spark that flew off from his feet. And before he knew it, destructive Thunder magic had already enveloped him and paralyzed his body. The old man shrieked in pain as his nose smelled a whiff of burning flesh. His own flesh. Mercifully, the Thundaga attack ceased just before his heart completely stopped beating. The old man then fell unconscious on the ground.

Nine spiteful warriors gathered around his still form, with one of them pulling out a phone from his pocket.

"Yeah, it's me. Tell Mr. Markkon we have secured the package."

----------

It was funny how such a delicately pretty day could transform instantly into something that could give one a bad taste of rotten noodles, just because of one person's doing. All he had to do was open that toothy grin of his and let that voice echo to completely ruin the otherwise idle and leisurely day Irvine Kinneas had reserved for himself in this rare lull in his schedule.

Zeilgr Markkon, who used to be such an unassuming individual who just happened to be the governor of Galbadia's southwestern province of Winhill, and who now enjoyed the distinction of the very outspoken libeler of Balamb Garden, sat beside him in a slightly bent, slightly slouching manner, as if enjoying the rich Corinthian leather making up the interior seats of his seventy-four thousand gil Ravas Romero made-to-order luxury limousine. Irvine had to admit that he was also enjoying the leather and the ambience exuded by the car's interior. Too luxurious, he thought, for a mere governor. Bu he no longer bothered to ask where Markkon got the money to buy the wheels. Such questions often went hopelessly unanswered.

It was almost like a bad episode of 'Sleeping with the Enemy'. He knew the scheming enemy sitting beside him, breathing the thick, alcoholic interior air of the limousine. And Irvine knew he had no business being here. Not only because of Markkon's position as Garden's hostile critic and assailant, but also of himself as one of its foremost soldiers. What would his classmates say about him? Irvine should know better than to stay there. Besides, he had jumped out of vehicles moving much faster.

But something deep inside nagged on the gunslinger to give Markkon the time of day. And if there was one thing that Irvine had always abided to, that was to give credit to his instincts.

The unlikely pair ended up in a pub near the docks. Irvine was anxious. Understandably. Here he was right now, face to face with what was conceivably the most scheming opponent Garden ever had. And yet, he was sharing a beer with him. The gunman SeeD tried to fight the urge to secretly order a Badamb fish for Markkon.

"Do you know of a Carina Menken?" was the governor's abrupt question that startled Irvine. For a typically conniving politician, Markkon wasn't wasting any time.

"Not by any chance, no."

"Oh, I see. I see." Markkon fidgeted playfully. "Seems you've spent too much of your childhood in Galbadia Garden. You don't even know the Who's Who in Deling City."

"Ask me if I care."

Markkon ignored his snide rejoinder and continued. "The Menkens were a very prominent family back in Deling City during the time of the Sorceress War. They were a very, very rich clan. And needless to say, powerful."

Irvine frowned, beginning to think that he made a wrong decision in giving Markkon this leeway.

"Just cut to the chase, ok? What does this thing have to do with me?"

"The Menkens were a power-hungry lot," continued Markkon. "So much that they even influenced the Galbadian army to let them 'sponsor' this upstart captain to expedite his rise among the ranks of the military. You know the drill with this kind of thing."

"Yeah…" Irvine agreed albeit grudgingly. He was sure the entire Garden population agreed that nothing could feel more repulsive than concurring with Markkon.

"Fortunately for them, this young officer happened to be competent enough to merit some attention, and he would have risen just as speedily even without the Menkens' support."

The SeeD brushed his earthy ponytail aside, a typical symbol of his thinning patience. "So…?!?"

"Carina fell in love with this captain, who, for reasons unknown to myself, reciprocated her feelings. It could be because he liked her too. That, or maybe he just used her to bolster his hold to the family's favor. Nevertheless, the two of them started a relationship that lasted until…"

Markkon paused, accompanied by that same contemptuous smirk.

"Until…?" the gunman impatiently asked.

"This Galbadian officer met another woman."

_Oh great… _ Irvine thought. "A love triangle. How exciting…"

"BUT…" Markkon suddenly blurted, mocking an action of holding his breath to further badger the already irritable SeeD.

"That's it. I'm outta here!" Irvine stood and started for the door. However, he had to stop abruptly upon hearing the Governor's next remark.

"Squad Pi Alpha would have been a great idea if it had succeeded."

The three-word code name exploded in his ears like a guffawing blast from the past. Irvine turned, frozen by the impact of Markkon's apparent knowledge of a clandestine operation that should only have been known between himself and a group of incognito Estharian operatives whom he thought long dead. The now alarmed SeeD slowly strode back towards the governor. He tried to hide the growing anxiety inside him as he voiced out the inevitable question.

"That's highly classified information. How did you know about it?"

Markkon kept smiling, prompting Irvine to reoccupy his seat.

"You were fifteen years old and already an accomplished marksman, the youngest Garden cadet ever to be officially categorized as a lethal weapon. Naturally, you're first pick when this secret Esthar hit force collaborated with an incognito Galbadian general to stage an assassination attempt against that arrogant tyrant, Vinzer Deling. You were to be the triggerman privileged to fire the bullet that they hoped would end the dictator's reign of terror."

Irvine maintained a stressful silence, his sentiment completely reversed. He now thought nothing could be more important than hearing out what else Markkon knew about his life.

"But Squad Pi Alpha failed, miserably if I might add. But you didn't even feel the repercussion of that failure because at the time, you were still safe in Galbadia Garden. The mission never got to the part of your participation. But…" the governor took a sip of wine before continuing, "we both know that's not the end of it."

"The Edea Liquidation Directive…" Irvine muttered. He felt a trace of lightness in his head for having recalled that hateful episode in his life.

"Very good, young lad. Do you know that you're the only one, aside from two others, who knew of that mission's official code name?"

"Two others?"

"Your former Garden Master, Martine Dodona… and…"

Irvine expected Markkon to name General Richard Caraway, the Galbadian officer who assisted them in the failed attempt at assassinating Sorceress Edea. But what he heard only furthered his confusion.

"… Carina Menken's old flame."

"What…?"

"The same young captain who later became general. Who later left the poor girl because of his knowledge of the Menken family's dark secret."

"D-Dark secret…?" Irvine's voice was now guttural, reflecting the growing trepidation inside him. There was a foreboding pattern in the way the conversation was shaping up. At first he regarded with nothing but annoyance how Markkon wasted his time with stories of flamboyant swinger generals who enticed rich socialites en route to dumping them for other girls. He had never liked soap operas. But now, he finally considered the possibility of all these things having some kind of connection with him and his past. And whatever it was, it scared him.

"Yes. The young gentleman claimed he had to let her go because he doesn't want to be tied to a family with a history of genetic insanity." Markkon tried to stifle a guffaw. "Horrible, isn't it?"

"I… I…" Irvine clutched his head upon feeling a bout of dizziness. He felt the urge to run away, but some force kept him glued to the rich, full-grained chair underneath him.

"Oh, you shouldn't feel despondent, young lad. Not yet anyway… Not until you hear that this young officer's decision of leaving Carina was further strengthened when he met this absolutely stunning pianist who worked for that plush night club in Galbadia Hotel."

"No…" the SeeD muttered, closing his eyes tight.

"We all know what happened next. This young general married the pianist, who by then had already become an extremely popular recording star, in one storybook-style wedding of the century that captured the hearts of every hopeless romantic on the face of the planet. You know, that's what I hate so much about being a celebrity. You can't do anything that those media vultures won't pounce at. It was a grand event. You should have seen it."

"But I didn't…" Irvine slowly spoke out… "Because…"

"Hey, hold on there. Let me finish." Markkon gestured for the waiter to deliver another bottle of expensive Chateau Lefite Rothschild before continuing his tale. "The event wasn't exactly unscathed by complications. But there was nothing that really ruined it. The young general did a great job… of hiding the fact that the scorned Carina Menken was able to seduce him into… you know… on the night before the wedding. And…"

Zeilgr Markkon's vile grin grew even wider. He waited for Irvine to meet his gaze, but the SeeD kept his head low. Markkon would have wanted to see the burning look of confusion in Irvine's eyes, but his staggered expression had to suffice. Besides, the bomb hadn't really detonated yet. But that was next.

"Three guesses on what that night resulted to. Or rather… WHO that night resulted to."

Him. No rhetoric, no attempt at being enigmatic. It was simply obvious. Markkon was saying that he, Irvine Kinneas, was the illegitimate son of Galbadian war hero General Richard Caraway.

The very thought of it threatened to rip his mind apart. Consequently, a vindictive volcano suddenly went alive inside him, spewing thick smoke and glowing clouds of angst and hatred that Irvine never even thought he was capable of feeling. What Markkon told him couldn't have been true. It just couldn't. How could he possibly take a revelation like this? That he…

His body took on a life of its own, his face contorted into the most menacing scowl he could muster.

"YOU LYING SCUMBAG! YOU KNOW I'LL KILL YOU FOR THIS!!!"

"Think, boy!" Markkon countered. "Galbadia Garden had been conducting marksmanship electives for native, transfer and exchange students from other Gardens. Why do you think Caraway chose you to be Squad Pi Alpha's triggerman? Both it and the Edea Directive had one mastermind and you know it. Why do you think he sent YOU to get his daughter out of that desert prison? Didn't you even wonder HOW you ended up in Galbadia Garden to start with?!?"

The enraged SeeD forcefully stood up, pushing his chair aside violently. The other customers of the pub became frightful when, with feverishly shaking hands, Irvine drew his silverized rifle and aimed it straight towards Zeilgr Markkon. The muzzle that helped destroy doomsday monsters and nihilistic sorceresses glared directly on his mortal face, but the governor remained unfazed as he continued with his psychological barrage.

"You know in your heart I'm not the real enemy. Think about it. What would you do if some uncaring, poor excuse for a man sires you, and then forcibly snatches you from your mother before unceremoniously sending her away?" Markkon nonchalantly attended to his drink. "And yet, he still kept you from the world, unscrupulously denying you and disowning you just to protect his 'good' name."

Much as he hated to admit it, his heart concurred with the governor. Irvine's teeth clashed violently in anger as he felt his legs stiffen, and then soften, as his quivering body began to sink into a kneeling despair. Unrelenting, Markkon left him a most dreadful suggestion before leaving.

"If I were you, I'd… well… kill him. But that's just me."

He lost track of how long he knelt there. But finally, the stunned Irvine struggled to lift himself up and slowly make his way toward the door. He felt his legs buckle again as a refreshing breeze of Balamb air blew into his face, but failed to do anything to alleviate his current state of embattlement. He closed his eyes, pictured a hideous sight in his mind, and then murmured a quiet apology to the one person who would be affected most with this dark train of thoughts.

Now how would he handle that one person? Just a month ago, Irvine felt sorry that he wasn't chosen to be Rinoa's partner in a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Not that he was starting to lose his devotion to Selphie. It was far from that. But come on, what guy in his right mind wouldn't jump at an opportunity to make out with Rinoa Heartilly?

He would be throwing up right now if he had been the one who spent seven minutes inside a dark closet with his own sister.

**End of Chapter VII**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

**SALTED WOUNDS**

The operation of a standard gunblade was, at the least, mind-boggling to the average mechanical engineer. Composed of a combination of titanium and porcelain frame whose strength and dexterity shamed conventional steel-constructed swords and firearms, the complexity of its design made mastering its use limited to an elite few. Only a handful learned how to use it with marginal effectiveness, and ever fewer were able to put it to practical use.

That was probably what Squall had in mind when he first chose the gunblade as his weapon of choice back when he was six years old. Being raised with almost no one to look up to but their Matron Edea and his favorite 'Sis' Ellone, the former lone wolf had always been accustomed to doing things the hard way, especially after aggravated situations demanded for Ellone to leave him behind in the orphanage.

Since then he had been trying hard, for in his limited mind he believed that only by doing so and by learning to stand on his own could he possibly get the chance to see 'Sis' again. When his classmates were browsing web pages to do homework, he'd go to the library and look through books one by one. Or when he had a choice between a Grat and a T-Rexaur, he'd choose the one with the razor-sharp fangs.

When the Garden weaponeer finally decided it was time for him to choose a weapon, and presented him with a broadsword, a direct-loading twin-muzzle shotgun and strapped claw gauntlets, he chose the one that combined most of those three weapons' strongest qualities, going for the weaponeer's private gunblade display and taking out the upgradeable model Revolver without asking for permission. The weaponeer must have seen something in those young but ferocious eyes, for he himself volunteered to train Squall (and later Seifer) in the difficult art of gunblade fighting.

He was now the world's finest gunblade fighter, thanks in no small way to his mentor who trained him for four arduous years before resigning from Garden to spend more time with his grandson. Squall had not heard from the weaponeer since, but he had always been grateful. It was perhaps the only time he relied on anybody since Ellone disappeared on him.

The Revolver had undergone a series of upgrades since then, the last being the Lionheart, its most powerful form. Funny, Squall thought, how similar the model's name was to his last name, as though the weapon had specifically been designed for him. But there was definitely nothing funny with its lethal efficiency. For a moment, he stared admiringly at the luminescent blade before once again putting its deadly form to use. As he had done so a million times before, Squall brought the weapon down to his side as he sprang to action against a waiting Hexadragon, one in the new batch of monsters brought in from Esthar for SeeD advanced training.

With the beast's slightest twitch, Squall already knew what it was about to do. With a trio of pounding steps, he quickly launched in the air to avoid a searing solar breath attack fired his way. The fire orbs struck a boulder, pulverizing it. But it never touched the SeeD commander who was then already plummeting down on the Hexadragon with the gunblade's edge pointing straight to its head. Sparks flew as pulse ammo-galvanized blade clashed against the dragon's tough hide. The monster reeled from the attack, hurt.

But the pain served only to release its fury. Screaming in rage, the Hexadragon thundered towards Squall, four of its six legs flailing in the air as it prepared to crush him to the ground. Instincts took over as Squall back-flipped to avoid the ten-ton stomp. But the beast's lunge brought it right in front of him. And engaging a Hexadragon in close combat was always a recipe for disaster. He needed some room. A quick Flare blast solved the problem.

The monster staggered for a moment, buying him time to scamper back. Once he had established distance, Squall once again used the gap to build his momentum. He attacked once more, hard, this time with the gunblade in the lead. Two feet of pulse blade sank into the monster's left shoulder, making it cry out in pain. He pulled out then twirled, momentarily letting go of the Lionheart's hilt and spinning it over his palms before taking hold again. Now in an underhand position, the Lionheart plunged into the other shoulder after a spin-back stab. Squall felt it crunch through bones.

Pulling out once more, he allowed the handle to spin loosely inside his hand, then gripped again as the blade faced outward. He spun to the right, his right hand holding the gunblade while his left deftly pulling back its firing hammer. Just as the blade sliced across the Hexadragon's neck, Squall released the hammer to fire a 50-caliber round. The high velocity projectile went through the beast's exposed neck flesh with a loud bang and blew up inside the monster's throat.

The move took almost two seconds, too long to stay this close to a Hexadragon. He again backed away just in time to avoid those massive legs. _Still alive._ This must have come straight from the Island Closest to Hell, and not from Esthar. He needed to do something with a little more flair.

A Water blast straight into the creature's six eyes. The monster lair came alive with agonized cries as the Hexadragon writhed in pain. As it staggered back, Squall prepared to unleash another Lionheart salvo. But before he could do it, the monster had decided that he'd had enough pain for one day, and quickly scampered away on all six limbs. Squall opted to let it flee.

"Advanced training…" he muttered wryly. It had never been his way to gloat, but even he had to admit that these scrimmages were becoming easier every time. Not only for him, but for his crew as well. How much advancement should it take for anything to pose them a semblance of challenge?

"Hey Squall," he heard someone call from behind. He turned around while sheathing the Lionheart, and was mildly surprised to see Marcus Derlini.

"Hey Marcus," he said nonchalantly. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Marcus answered dryly. "Not many people can do that to a Hexadragon. I'm impressed. But then, why should I be?"

Squall detected contempt in Marcus' voice, but quickly dismissed it. He didn't know of anything he was answerable for except for that card game two months ago. Maybe Marcus was just alluding that as SeeD commander, he was expected to route his enemies with little effort every time. He just scoffed in return.

"Hmph. Be careful there, Marcus," he warned while starting for the exit. "Those new monsters are no pushovers."

But while walking away, Squall felt a sense of foreboding hanging over him like a dark cloud. Slowing his steps, the SeeD commander looked back and saw Marcus staring at him. Maybe he had something he needed to say after all.

"Yes?" Squall came back. But Marcus didn't say a word, gazing at Squall as though he was some kind of a phenomenon. Like Omega Weapon or Ultimecia, who both needed burying under six miles of earth.

Deep in his mind, the Trepie was trying to decide whether to honor the promise he made Quistis the day before or allow himself to vent his ire. He remained staring at the SeeD commander.

"Marcus, if there's something you have to tell me, tell me now. I haven't got all day."

But then, he never really promised anything to Quistis. Don't tell anyone about it? Fine. Don't make Squall realize that he was a vicious and self-absorbed asshole? That was an altogether different story.

"Have… you heard from Instructor Quistis lately?" he slowly started, waiting for Squall to react. The latter just raised an eyebrow and answered with another question.

"No. Why are you asking me anyway? Have _you_ heard from Quisty?"

Marcus fought the urge to tell the truth. Not now, he insisted to himself.

"Why should I? You guys seem to be very close to each other. I thought maybe you're somehow keeping in touch or something."

_Was that it? Oh yeah._ Squall thought. It was very much like Marcus to ask about Quistis, given his enormous infatuation for her that was almost legendary within Garden. But how in blazes would he know? "Nope, she hasn't called since she left Garden. But I'll let you know soon as I hear something," Squall answered with a patronizing smile to give Marcus a little tease. "Still hung up on her, huh."

Marcus returned a wide grin. "YUP! You know me."

"Catch you later, then."

"You bet," Marcus said, still with that silly grin on his face. But right after Squall turned away, Marcus called on him again. "Hey Squall."

Squall turned, a little annoyed. "Man, you really are bringing it all out piece by piec…"

A strong force suddenly jolted his head as Marcus drove a fist into his face. Squall was caught totally off-guard, the impact of the punch sending him tumbling over the rocky ground. Recovering, he spent a moment to shake his head and regain his balance despite the ringing in his ears. The blow felt like one from a Wendigo. Marcus must have been junctioned, he thought. But what the hell was that all about?

A dark-faced Squall fought the urge to strike back. He had just routed a Hexadragon, so retaliating with adrenalin still seething in his blood might send Marcus to the infirmary. If he was lucky.

"Care to explain yourself?" he simmered while standing up.

"Ask Xu." Marcus shot back.

Squall was dumbfounded. Marcus just clocked him without so much as a hint as to why. Now he was telling him to ask Xu why he got a fist sandwich? Whatever could she know about anything?

He then remembered Xu's surprising hostility a couple of days before. Could it somehow have been connected?

"What the bloody hell do you mean, Marcus?" Squall gripped Marcus by the shirt collar. "Tell me or I swear…!"

"You swear what? Make minced meat out of me? Well doh, as if you haven't screwed up enough already. Go ahead and let's make this a bigger issue than it already is. Quistis would be ecstatic once she learns about this!"

_Quistis?!?_ How the hell did Quistis get involved? His eyes fixed like tent spikes on the dark-skinned SeeD. Squall was still shell-shocked by that punch and he still wanted to feed the ground to Marcus. But then, his mind was already racing elsewhere. How did Quistis get pulled in this issue? She'd been gone for six months now. Did he know where she was?

Did Xu know? What was she mad about? What was Marcus so mad about all of the sudden?

Squall's chest thundered with a dawning perception that something had been happening behind his back. A few days earlier, Xu startled him with an aberrantly hostile attitude as if he had some monumental transgression to answer for. Her behavior puzzled him, and he didn't have a clue whatsoever as to why she'd tell him off like that. Probably just one of those days for her, he had thought back then. So he chose to ignore her.

But he could no longer ignore this one. There was one common denominator between Xu and Marcus: their close attachment to Quistis. But what could they possibly hold against him that was related to her other than the fact that the two of them weren't in friendly terms prior to her departure? Did they know something that he didn't?

Squall relented, pushing Marcus back before proceeding hastily towards the exit. Next stop: SeeD dispatch office. Xu had a lot of questions to answer for.

----------

Iris Deen had been thinking about a lot of things lately. She had been thinking mainly about her relationship with Zell Dincht, the SeeD who once pestered her a lot about this book titled 'Good-bye, Pururun.' There was a time when recalling that episode of endless pestering almost always brought a smile to her face. She had always admired Zell from afar despite her friends always asking what she saw in the guy. They had always nagged her about how Zell was this impetuous and overly passionate guy whose fixation for martial arts had given everyone the impression that his meager mind couldn't possibly accommodate other pursuits.

Not that everyone thought that way. A lot of other girls whom her friends described as 'lacking the refinements that a Garden girl should have' had expressed similar and evidently more rabid admirations for Zell. And they couldn't perceive the thought that Iris, who was supposed to be this cultured woman from a rich family in Timber would fall in the same manner as those class-less broads.

But she had never listened to them when it came to Zell. All Iris knew was she liked him and she had no qualms about showing it. She even went to the extent of seeing him one day in Balamb Hotel just to give him one of the rare Combat King back issues that he had been looking for. Her friends had frowned at her because of that. But again, she didn't mind.

When they started growing close because of his endless pestering for Good-bye Pururun, she thought she was on top of the world. Repeated meetings resulted in more frequent invitations to dine out that all the more sent her soaring into the clouds. And next thing she knew, they were dating.

They had had their ups and downs of course, as was typical to such relationships. At least that was what she had always claimed when her friends got on her case again whenever they thought Zell was neglecting her for other things. But Iris had always dismissed them, insisting that Zell was just that way. Ever the macho jerk, it was conceived natural for him to spend more time with other guys doing such macho stuffs like having a contest on who could last longest inside the training area, holding arm-wrestling tournaments or just spending entire nights playing sports video games. He had always been that way even before they started going out. So who was she to try and change him?

Besides, he had been paying his dues with her despite his other interests. And this was one of the reasons why she thought they did have a relationship. Zell may not have been spending as much time with her as Irvine had been with Selphie or Squall with Rinoa. But whenever they did get together, those were always quality times. And Zell always made good his words. He had never even once stood her up or called to say that he couldn't make it. Whenever he made a promise, his other pursuits always took a back seat.

But lately, things had been changing. Lately, there had been more times when Zell backed out on a date for whatever reason that she really didn't give a damn about. Lately, they had been arguing a lot more than before. Fights and quarrels used to be so scarce in the limited time they spent with each other. But now, they just seem to meet only to argue. About what? There'd been so many issues she couldn't pinpoint which was which anymore. And mostly, those issues had been so trivial she sometimes had been inclined to think there might just be some underlying cause to all their disagreements. The sudden rise in fights was so sharp it was just too suspicious.

Another girl, perhaps?

Her friends had repeatedly insisted on the possibility, but Iris had always rejected the prospect. She was practically Zell's first girlfriend mainly because his masculine preoccupation had prevented him from chasing after girls before her. (In fact, some believed that she was the one who chased after him.) He wasn't like his best friend, Irvine. He was the type who would rather see a college wrestling match with the guys than a movie with the most gorgeous girl in Garden other than Quistis Trepe. How could someone like him even think of getting another girl when one was already a thousand handfuls?

The thought of Zell cheating on her was so ridiculous it always made her laugh even when she was feeling sad. Like today. She had just confided with her friend, fellow library committee member Mikee Elwaine. She was all sad faces and things like that. Then Mikee had to mention that 'possibility' again.

"Ha-ha! Very funny!" Iris cracked back. "Please Mikee, don't make me laugh. I'm just not in the mood right now."

"Iris, I don't know if I should call you a denial queen or the poster child for acute naiveté." Mike said. "You really think your precious Zell isn't capable of cheating on you?"

"If you knew him the way I do, you'd react the same way, Mikee," answered Iris. "Zell… in many ways he's still just an overgrown boy. But I don't mind that about him. I've always known him like that, and I fell for him under that circumstance. I accept him the way he is. The bright side is, of course, if he thinks I'm already way too much to handle, why in the world would he hook up with another girl? He'd only be putting rocks inside his own backpack."

"Oh, you're hopeless, girlie. I can't give you any advice if you're gonna continue thinking that way."

"What do you want me to do? Start becoming suspicious of him?"

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm just saying you should maintain an open mind."

Iris scoffed. "Nah. Not Zell. I'm not close-minded, I just know him too well to begin thinking that."

"Oh yeah?" Mikee said. "Okay, genius. Then how do you explain all these things about him? You're the one who said he's starting to change."

"I don't know…" Iris trailed, feeling gloomy again. "Maybe… maybe he's losing interest in me. Maybe since I'm the one who made the first move, he's not feeling challenged anymore. Maybe he's growing bored with me."

"Well, at least you're starting to see some light. Alea and I have been talking, and we both believe you're giving him too much attention. Don't you think maybe he's starting to feel cramped?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're being too showy with your feelings and paying him too much attention. You should be more careful of these things, Iris. Guys usually need their space, but they're not gonna tell you that. You'll just have to be sensitive enough to know when they need attention and when they want some room. The way I see it, you're starting to suffocate him."

"Am I…?" Iris' voice faded with that remark. Maybe she was suffocating him, she thought. But why won't he say anything? Oh yeah, guys were like that, not as expressive as girls when there was something eating into them. Not exactly a very ideal arrangement, she thought. One of the things that Iris hated was doing guesswork. She was lucky enough that her first boyfriend, Anthony, was a little more eloquent than most other guys.

But not Zell. She couldn't even trust him to get a knife and carve their initials on a tree trunk and not puke at the mere thought of it. Talk about his feelings? Forget it.

Not that they needed to before. They didn't. But that was before. That was prior to whatever it was that had suddenly drawn his already scarce attention away from her. It could have been that Mikee was right. It could have been something else. Whatever it was, she just hoped that he would tell her.

Besides, she had something to tell him too.

"Hey girlie," Mikee turned again, "change of subject. What's this I heard about you going on vacation? Is this about Zell?"

"No," she answered. So Mikee already knew about her sudden departure plans. Iris wondered who told her. "I'm not that prosaic. And it's not a vacation, more of a sick leave."

"Sick leave? Hey, is there something wrong with you?"

"I'm not sure, Mikee. But I've been…" Iris said before suddenly wincing. "Oooowwww!"

Mikee became alarmed when Iris suddenly crumpled around her stomach. "Hey Iris, you okay? Let me call a doctor, all right?"

"D-Don't bother…" Iris forced out, still clutching her abdomen. "It comes and goes occasionally, but there doesn't seem to be a pattern to it." Iris felt her stifled breathing loosening up. "There… it's already going away now."

"Geez, girlie. Have you already seen a doctor? You shouldn't take these things for granted, you know. The papers say three people have already contracted typhoid fever in Balamb. You should see a doctor as soon as possible."

"I know." Iris straightened up. "Why do you think I'm going on leave?"

"Does Zell know about this?"

"I already sent him a note to his mom's in Balamb. But… I don't think I'm waiting for him to come back before I leave. I sent the message yesterday and until now I still haven't heard from him."

Mikee grimaced, but she tried to hide it from Iris. _If I were you, I'd try to catch him red-handed, _she wanted to say. But not right now. Not when her friend had her health problems to worry about.

Mikee then thought… maybe she could do Iris a favor… and find out once and for all what Zell had been doing behind her back.

----------

Midnight.

It was already midnight. He double-checked his watch just to be sure.

No doubt.

The troubled general trained his worried eyes outside, beyond the regal drapes adorning the windows of his stately mansion's receiving room. Catching his sight was a multitude of agitated Galbadian activists bearing banners, placards and numerous effigies being burned down in protest of a policy he imposed close to a year ago. He was lauded then as a hero of the world, a stalwart crusader of peace after striking an accord with Laguna Loire for the establishment of a solid political and socio-economic alliance with the powerful state of Esthar.

How could these same people proclaim him as their savior at one turn, and then scorn him as a traitor at the next? Richard Caraway shook his head in disgust. How could his people be as insufferably fickle as this?

_No wonder Vinzer Deling was able to push you people around…_ He thought, and then just as quickly extinguished it. It was not for a man of his stature to degrade himself with such pointless whining.

His answer came via a voice emanating from the TV set sitting atop his desk. The voice spoke the same slew of half-truths, exaggerated assumptions and speculations spoken with much ardor they appeared to actually wield a hue of truth in them. There was that man again, spewing forth his propaganda amidst the listening ears of helpless and gullible Galbadian citizens whose lack of acquaintance with the truth had been spectacularly exploited by the governor.

"Markkon, you scheming idiot," he murmured. "Someday you will pay dearly for this."

Caraway has no doubt in mind, as he knew only too well the kind of power wielded by Zeilgr Markkon's provocative speeches that had been spurring Galbadians everywhere into a bitter reproach of his edict of providing logistic support for Balamb Garden. But in retrospect, these people really didn't understand what they were protesting about.

He pondered: If only one ordinary citizen would stop and think, he'd realize just how much benefit they had been reaping with the continued active participation of Garden in the global peacekeeping efforts. How many times had it been wherein SeeDs shielded them against the hail of stray bullets fired from the guns of leftist and rightist groups that sought to shatter their fledgling peace efforts? How many times have these gallant youngsters rescued them from sudden outbreaks of rabid Anacondaurs? Have they already forgotten the time when these same SeeDs that they loathed so much once averted the occurrence of another Lunar Cry?

But of course, these were just ordinary citizens. He loathed the fact that people like them cared little about truth and more about blood-rousing sensationalism. Maybe for them, it was more interesting, more exciting. It was a pity most people seemed to wield this attitude, and only a few had the predilection to think and weigh things. Caraway let out a frustrated sigh. If he had not cared about them so much, he would readily brand them as an overly naïve and superstitious people, easily taken in by a bunch of blown up presumptions and outright lies spewed forth by a small-town governor.

The perturbed general shook his head vehemently. Despite the odds, he still could not bring himself to accept that he was leading a nation of pushovers. On the side, he couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, someone like the late Vinzer Deling would have been more equipped to lead a nation like this. It was too exhausting to have had to deal with simple-mindedness and gullibility. Maybe this was the reason why Deling chose to become a dictator. Caraway would have believed this if he didn't also know how power-hungry Deling was. If he wasn't aware of the extreme and despotic visions of the later ruler who arrogantly and unlawfully declared himself president for life.

Caraway didn't have such ambitions. All he had wanted was to see Galbadia freed from the iron grip of a despot who could have led the country to a path of self-destruction. Given the current situation, sometimes he got to thinking that maybe it would have been all right for him to become dictator too. He wouldn't do anything abusive anyway outside of putting all the decision-making powers of the state on his hands. He would have handled such a power responsibly. At least that was what he believed.

But a dictator will always be a dictator. Power than immense could have an influence strong enough to seduce even the most levelheaded of minds. And one crucial mistake was already too much for a country composed mostly of people who had endured Vinzer Deling's authoritarian policies for the most parts of their lives. No, that wouldn't be a solution. He had to deal with this the hard way.

Caraway hollered a summons for one of his guards.

"Eiling!!!"

"Y-Yes, sir?" the goosey soldier responded, worried as usual that Caraway might have discovered his participation in a failed coup attempt that broke out one year ago.

"Get me President Loire on the hotline."

"Sir, yes sir!" a relieved Corporal complied.

"And while you're at it, shoot that wretched TV for me, will you?"

"Y-Yes sir…" The puzzled corporal scratched his head while watching General Caraway walk into his private office.

----------

"I told you it was a bad idea to put SeeD outposts in Deling City. It's like throwing a lit match inside a powder keg. I don't know why Headmaster Cid approved the motion in the first place," Nida said just after turning off the dispatch radio. "That was just overly naïve of him to think that nothing like this will happen."

"He's got his reasons," Xu answered. "Maybe he thought General Caraway would be able to handle the situation. Besides, who'd think Zeilgr Markkon would do something like this."

"Eh? I'm surprised it took him this long to hit Deling City. If you were a SeeD hater, where would you go first to gather public support?"

"Not that. I was talking about all this bullshit propaganda against Garden. Who'd think he'd do something like this? Winhill's seat of power has always been sympathetic to Balamb as far back as I can remember, even if they are a part of Galbadia. And remember we even used to hold parties in that huge mansion."

Nida turned a conspicuous smile at Xu. She returned with a scowl.

"Don't even start, Nida."

"Hey, I didn't say anything," he said, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender. "You should learn to lighten up a little more, Xu. You're more fun that way."

"I said don't start. We're just friends. Nothing more, nothing less."

"All right, all right," he faded. Nida had always been puzzled with Xu like this. He didn't know if she thought the particular nocturnal episode that saw them both give in to the effects of too much tequila was something that had to be buried under six feet of earth, or if she was just too indifferent to care about things like that. He certainly wasn't. And even though social protocols dictated that it would be wiser to not make anything out of otherwise intense experiences like that, he still would have chosen to believe that something that was worth looking forward to could come out of that moment.

But he ultimately concluded such hopes as a lost cause. Xu was cute in her own way, but she was just too high strung. This situation brought him to a minor worry that such line of thoughts might lead him to actually fall for her. But how would it feel like to have a crush on Xu Kirishima? He knew of at least one guy who made that mistake, and he had to leave Garden after his grades made like a jet plane that suddenly lost fuel in mid flight when Xu rejected him. What was up with this girl? Was she a lesbian? Not possible. She was too hot to be a lesbian. That night proved it.

If he didn't know better, he'd think she was the epitome of a female Squall, before Rinoa came into the picture. He wondered if it was possible for him to imitate Rinoa's personality…

Scary thoughts…

And speaking of the devil…

"Uhrm…" a sound emanated from the door. Nida and Xu turned to see Squall standing by the doorway of the dispatch office. Nida's eyebrow elevated when Squall spoke with a heavy tone. "Xu, I need to talk to you. Right now."

"Oh?" she returned. Nida looked at her. Despite the calm in her face, he felt a hostility that wasn't typical of her. Was she having a fight with Squall? Great! What would happen if you cross two high-voltage wires?

Squall pointed towards the hallway, prompting Xu to step out. Nida was still looking on as Squall followed her. Xu probably knew what this was about because she didn't stop walking until she was far away enough from the dispatch office for her voice to be heard even if she shouted. When she stopped walking, they were already at the end of the corridor where the door to the side terrace and an emergency exit were situated. After making sure that it was at least another hour before the end of morning homeroom, she then turned to Squall with that same, uncaring expression.

"What?" she said with an indifferent tone.

Squall didn't waste any time. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"About what?" Xu said, continuing to look uncaring. She had an idea on what Squall was pertaining to, almost sure that it was related to her ill feelings for him. But she wanted him to be the one to initiate the subject.

"All right, let's cut the crap." Squall said. "A few days ago you told me off in the rec room and…"

"So? You don't like being told off?"

Squall ignored her interruption. "And just before, Marcus punched me in the face."

"Really?" Xu snapped back, secretly commending what Marcus did. "Then why tell me about it? I know it's a serious offense to strike a superior officer, but why not take it up with the Garden council?"

"Just shut up and listen!" he shot back, mildly surprising Xu. "We were also talking about Quistis."

_Quistis?_

"Now what's happening, Xu? Talk to me. I'm quite sure you're mad at me for something that involves Quistis. And Marcus was also yapping about her just before. What's going on?"

_Why is Marcus…?_ her mind sputtered in trying to make sense of what Squall said. Could it be that Marcus had discovered something about Quistis.

Then Xu remembered his assignment as Dollet liaison. _Oh no…_

But then, what was the deal with Squall acting as though he knew nothing?

"You really are something else, aren't you, Squall? You come barging in my work like this, pull me out here and bark to your heart's content as if you have no clue to what you've done?"

_What?_ It was Squall's turn to become flustered. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Xu almost wanted to explode with fury, her face turning red as a cherry. She couldn't believe that someone could have the temerity for acting innocent to something as grave as what Squall had done. She had thought that Quistis was merely doing that stupid martyr routine when she chose not to hold him responsible for her condition. But Squall was actually acting as though he didn't know anything. This was the very epitome of blatant heartlessness if she had ever seen one.

If she thought before that her word of honor was reason enough to hold back her anger, it was already a moot point. Xu couldn't possibly tolerate Squall and his planet-sized audacity.

"You really ARE a piece of work, Leonhart!" Her voice reverberated all throughout the second floor hallway. "How dare you deny your responsibility to my best friend? HOW DARE YOU!"

"What responsibility?!?"

Her eyes were still burning with contempt as they locked fiercely on the SeeD commander's. Then Xu realized what she was looking at. His face that she loathed so much for what she thought was the most massive clump of egotistical nerves in the entire universe transformed right before her very eyes, into something that showed nothing but perplexity.

"You… you don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

Squall just stared at her with those bewildered eyes. Xu felt a headache rushing towards her.

"You don't know what happened the night when you met Quistis in Balamb?"

"I don't," he finally stammered. "I honestly don't know anything."

Xu couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Squall, enough of this bullshit! Nine months ago just before the Garden Festival, Quisty saw you in Balamb after she arrived from a consultation assignment in Dollet. You were very drunk. And she said that since she was also too tired to drive back to Garden, she decided to get a room for the two of you."

Squall closed his eyes, trying to recall the events that Xu described. He remembered waking up in the morning with the mother of all hangovers. He remembered Quistis walking out of the bathroom in a short hotel-issue cotton robe, appearing like she had just taken a shower. He remembered the drive back to Balamb Garden, with both of them silent as mute lambs.

He remembered being worried about it all, that something else might have happened that night that he couldn't recall due to his being too intoxicated. It wasn't the first time he got drunk, but it was only his second. The first time was a very rare moment wherein he obliged to a few classmates' invitation for a card derby, after which he couldn't remember for the life of him how he turned up in his own room with 5,400 Gil in his pocket.

It was the precedent that made him confront Quistis the day she left Garden. That day, she appeased his concerns by claiming that nothing happened.

He didn't even bother to know if Quistis told him the truth. He remembered being very worried about the repercussions of that night and how Rinoa might react if she had known about it. His worries were immediately quelled when Quistis said nothing happened. But was it because he knew she would never lie, or because that was merely what he had wanted to hear from her?

Squall's chest began pounding hard.

"I… I remember we did… check in," he stuttered while clutching his head. "But that was it. I talked to Quisty about it much later, just before she left. I… I asked her what happened that night."

Xu held her breath. She didn't know why, but she felt he was telling the truth. She had to hear this.

"And she said nothing happened."

_God that woman!_ her mind hollered in disgust. Xu had always known Quistis to have the inclination to cover up for Squall at almost every turn. She wasn't even beyond believing that Quistis might have pulled some strings to give Squall a level-10 initial rating when he became a SeeD. But doing something like this? She knew that her friend chose not to claim anything from him. And even though she could never sympathize with Quistis' sentiment, part of her understood that she merely did it to avoid complications. Let Squall relax smugly in the face of his responsibility, knowing that Quistis had freed him from it.

And he did just that as far as she knew. That was why Xu was mad at him. It wasn't supposed to matter if the girl had absolved him of his obligation, he should at least have expressed a measure of concern for her, even if he had to keep it a secret. Even if he had to be a hypocrite to do it. One of the most terrible hells that could ever befall a woman was to be forced to bear a pregnancy on her own. How could he have gone on as though nothing happened?

Now she realized that Squall really wasn't at fault. At least she couldn't blame him for his attitude anymore. He didn't even know what happened that night. All because Quistis lied to him. And to her.

_The hopeless, insufferable, messed up woman!!!_

Xu didn't know what she was feeling at the moment. It must have been pity for Quistis. Or maybe it was annoyance, for bearing a burden she didn't have to carry alone. She didn't know if she still wanted to help her friend or slap her on the face. Quistis certainly asked for this predicament, and she deserved whatever situation she had been suffering with right now.

Her chaotic emotions showed in her agonized expression. And it told Squall loads of things he didn't want to know. Upon seeing her distraught face, he started cursing soundlessly.

A long time elapsed with the two just standing at the end of a hallway that had started to fill with students en route to a lunch of grilled rib-eye special. It was Friday. And Squall and Xu nearly forgot about the day in light of this critical discovery.

One more question haunted Squall's mind. Why did Quistis run away?

Not that he didn't have an idea. The likely answer was quite obvious he felt it stupid to still ask. But Squall's fear led him to deny the answer. It couldn't possibly happen now. Not now.

"W… Where's Quistis?" he nevertheless asked, his voice unsteady. "Do you know where she is now?"

Xu didn't feel like giving him a straight answer.

"Well, Marcus found her. That should be obvious enough," she said before quietly walking away.

Squall didn't find it hard to pick up on her hint. Now there was only one thing left to do.

----------

"Wish I can talk to Rinoa."

"Then why don't you call her?" Laguna returned through the comm screen.

"I can't, not right now," Richard Caraway answered. "With everything that's been going on with Garden, I don't want to further burden her with my problems here."

"Yeah, I can see your point."

"How about you, Laguna?"

"How about me what?"

"How are you and Ellone doing? Hope you two are not going down to that dreadful father-versus-daughter squabble."

_Father and daughter?!?_

"Ellone and me? D… Don't be silly," Laguna replied, recalling an earlier episode with his ward that almost made his stomach churn. "Ah… It'd be a cold day in hell before the two of us disagree on something…"

Caraway smirked. He'd known Laguna long enough to detect telltale peculiarities in his voice whenever the latter was hiding something. But he immediately dismissed the thought. Prying into other people's personal affairs had never been his style.

"Enough about me and Ellone," Laguna said to change the subject. "How about you? What do you plan to do with all these protests?"

"What do I plan to do? Nothing. What do you expect me to do? Hose the protesters down with seawater? You don't actually think I'd become another Vinzer Deling, do you?"

"No, of course not."

"Besides," added Caraway, "not all of them are protesting our policy on Garden support. Some of them are barking at me for reinstating the death penalty."

"Whoa! Wait a minute, Richard. When did this happen?"

"Laguna my friend, don't tell me you're getting old. You knew the Galbadian ministry agreed on this after that controversial conviction of Lucresia Scaramanga."

"Oh yeah… Lucresia," Laguna trailed while a series of events were recalled in his mind. Lucresia Scaramanga was among the fatally misguided coven of middle-aged and elderly women who made up what was known as the Temple of the Distant Sisters. Formerly a clandestine band who sought acceptance from each other by performing curious rituals that were deemed at first harmless, the Distant Sisters first became a threat when they happened on ancient incantations that subsequently released the malevolent demigod, Vesta, and her Ogre-bat cohort Tengu.

The Distant Sisters dispersed after SeeD defeated Vesta. And the last time anyone of them was seen was when a splinter group offered their souls to serve the ancient Incubus, who was in turn destroyed by SeeD deputy commander Quistis Trepe and a mysterious warrior known only as Hunter.

Lucresia Scaramanga, as Laguna recalled, bore the brunt of criminal prosecutions for her role as the leader and instigator of the Vesta event that nearly subjected the world to the cataclysmic designs of a demented demigod. She was tried under Galbadian laws on account of her current status as a resident of Winhill, a place that was still counted as one of Galbadia's provinces. And because of the bizarre nature of her crime that was described as both premeditated genocide and treason, the appointed judge sentenced her to death, in the process provoking the Galbadian ministry to reinstate the death penalty. General Caraway was thrust in the limelight when he approved the act without so much as a plebiscite. And the anti-death penalty activists had been hounding him ever since.

The political storm was indeed intimidating, and Laguna would have focused on them if it hadn't been for another thing stated in Lucresia Scaramanga's dossier. He felt pity for her on account of indirect association with something he held dear. Laguna knew Lucresia as the old lady who moved from Balamb to Winhill and bought the pub owned by his late wife, Raine. If anything, he had wanted to use his weight in appealing her case, as a thank you gesture for maintaining the upkeep of the pub. But that was too trivial compared to the gravity of her crime.

As trains of thought were wont to do, they wandered toward an episode of deep emotional significance. Laguna began thinking about Rain. But to his surprise, the act of remembering her no longer carried the sting that used to torture him. He'd wonder why if he didn't already have an idea. And that idea scared him.

"Well, that's the way the ball bounces."

"Heh heh. You mean 'rolls'," Caraway said with a polite chortle. "Damn, Kiros was right about you."

"Eh! Never mind that. Anyways, how about this other problem? I'm just wondering how this will affect your policy regarding B-Garden."

Caraway let out an appalled groan. "Well, I have to be honest with you, my friend. Trying to uphold a government of the people, by the people and for the people has its complexities. Galbadians may be the most gullible cretins in the world… but they are still Galbadians, to whom I've sworn to serve." He momentarily glanced at a piece of paper lying beside him before continuing. "I… may have to take a second look into the Garden Provisions Act… Sorry about this…"

"Hey, don't apologize to me, Richard," Laguna enthused, albeit forcibly. "You gotta do what you gotta do for your people. I'd do the same thing if I happen to be in your shoes."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Laguna."

The conversation was interrupted by Caraway's personal guard.

"Sir. My apologies for the intrusion, but there's someone here who claims he's from Balamb Garden, and he's demanding an audience with you, sir."

"Hmm, who might that be?" Caraway wondered. Turning back to Laguna, "Hey mon ami, seems I have a visitor from Balamb. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"You bet, pardner," Laguna retorted before disconnecting.

Richard Caraway expended a second to straighten his suit before turning his attention back to Corporal Eiling. "I reckon you have the visitor's name?"

"Yes sir. A certain… Irvine Kinneas, sir."

**End of Chapter VIII**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX**

**APPARITIONS**

Rinoa couldn't stop laughing. After all this time, she still couldn't stop laughing.

"He went postal after the director gave him the script. His face was like 'Do I look like Jaisun Biggs to you?' I wouldn't even believe it myself if I wasn't there to see it."

"Why?" asked Alys. "What did the script say?"

"I don't know," Neo answered, struggling vainly to keep a straight face. "But he gave Rifty a whole apple pie and told him to start practicing."

Rinoa exploded with another laughing fit. This time, Alys Trebek joined her as Neo Redlovi recounted his recent meeting with former Garden student and now upcoming stage actor Rifty Star. After all this time, she still found their company insanely hilarious, even thought it had been a while since that time when they were inadvertently shoved into the unenviable mission of saving the world from alien conquerors. For her, it was a shining moment in her career as a SeeD, made especially memorable by the antics of the now famous Silver Star Elite, whose unconventional (and perceivably unintentional) approach to the task made it look less grim than it really was. She had developed a close friendship with the SSEs ever since, and maintained contact with them despite the rising demands of her station. Besides, she needed the laugh once in a while. Especially during the recent days that were made unusually stressful by the unstopping propaganda of a disgruntled Winhill governor.

"Did Rifty accept the role?" she asked, preparing for another comical scenario.

"Did he? Rifty mashed the pie all over the director's face! And then he said 'The role fits you better because you're a dick.'"

"Hah-ha!" Alys laughed. "And so did the story of the Galbadian Pie stage version end. I hope Rifty finds a new job soon. I heard he got banned by the director's guild because of it."

"Not really. The stage censors wouldn't have allowed it anyway, so they ruled out Rifty's behavior as 'righteous indignation'. I think he just signed a new contract with the producers of Much Ado About Adel." Neo turned around. "Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go and polish my knives."

Rinoa watched fondly as Neo walked away. "You know, I think he never recovered from what Luna did to him. Seems like he's been talking to a lot more to people since that time."

Alys agreed. "Uh-huh. But I'll be damned if I knew what Luna did to him. By the way, have you heard about Kyo and Athena?"

"No. What about them?" was Rinoa's curious retort. Alys bent towards her and whispered. "Oh, really! Wow! Who would have thought, huh."

"I know. And it all only started with Athena's incessant blabbering about her butt," said Alys, prior to expending some moments to assume a more subdued mood. "By the way, how are you and Squall doing?"

"Squall and I? We're doing just fine. Thanks for asking."

"That's good. I thought you'd also go the way of a lot of couples I know. Some of my friends had broken up for the smallest reasons."

Rinoa smiled. "Nope, not Squall and I. If you know about all the things that we went through before we fell in love, you wouldn't be worried. The two of us… I don't know, but it seems to me like it'll take a great deal to break us up. You know…"

"Yeah," Alys agreed. "It's no secret. A lot of people envy you two because they think you're just so perfect for each other."

"Well, I know him." Rinoa blushed. "I know he would never allow anything to get between us. Of course, we've had our ups and downs. But compared to how much we feel for each other, those are all superficial. I really do think nothing in this world would be able to break us apart."

The SSE looked at her, total envy and admiration written all over her face. "Really? That is just sooo inspiring to hear, Rinoa. You really love him that much, don't you?"

"Yeah," Rinoa said, her voice softening. "I love him more than anything in this world. And there's nothing I wouldn't do for him."

He heard everything Rinoa said from behind the door of the gala room porch. And her words echoed long and hard in his mind.

_[I]He would never allow anything to get between us…[/I]_

_[I]I love him more than anything in this world…[/I]_

_[I]There's nothing I wouldn't do for him…[/I]_

_[I]Nothing in this world would be able to break us apart…[/I]_

Squall had never felt more grieved in his life. He had never been more heartbroken. There was a time when such words from his beloved would make him count his blessings and feel like he was the luckiest man in the whole world. After all, Squall did share the same sentiments Rinoa had expressed. To him, she was the best thing that ever happened to a life that had been replete with insecurity and loneliness brought about by a slew of losses. Ellone, whose gentle touch abandoned him when he was very young. And Raine, whose loving warmth he never knew. Rinoa almost filled the emptiness in a heart that was left with all those harrowing losses. Squall had always seen her as his savior, the only one who successfully rescued him from his self-imposed isolation.

He was more than content with her. He was happy to live the rest of his life with her. But despite this, many times he'd suffer from acute bouts of the same insecurity he had struggled against for so long. This had been one of the things that people failed to see in him. Squall, the cool and confident SeeD commander who could do nothing wrong, in truth feared that someday he might see Rinoa torn away from him. A few years ago, he would have given a big fuss about this perception people had of him, having had this attitude of always fearing what impression other people might have about him.

Now, he didn't care. So what if they saw him in this manner, and the truth was far from it? He didn't give a damn. All that mattered to him was Rinoa. All he ever wanted to do was for Rinoa. But sometimes he'd be gripped by this fear that someday, something might happen that would break them apart. Rinoa knew this, and in most of those times she had tried to quell his fear and assure him that she would never leave. There was even a time when she went beyond her supposed limit and wrote him a letter. Squall had fondly tucked that letter in his wallet, and had kept it there ever since. Despite himself, he couldn't stop reading it once in a while.

_I look at you and I see the incarnation of my soul's wish, that someday someone may love me with all his heart, despite all my faults and shortcomings. I listen to your voice and hear the sweet promise only one with such devotion as you could possibly say. I lean against your chest and hear the only heart in this entire universe that beats in unison with mine._

_You have your fears. I know. And once and for all, I'll tell you._

_Thunder and lightning may pierce the sky and decimate the heavens, but my eyes will always be fixed on you._

_The strongest storms and highest floods may wipe out all that stood on the earth, but I will remain standing up for you._

_The sun and the moon may connive to scorch the world, but I will be here to comfort you._

_Everyone you love may end up leaving, but my arms will always be wrapped around you._

_I will hold you tight, tighter than I've ever held anyone or anything._

_I will never turn away. I will never leave you._

_I will always love you, Squall._

* * *

Author's Note: That little excerpt was taken from the one-shot fic _**Never**_.

-------------------

That certainly did it, and he would have been set at ease for the rest of his life.

Recent revelations showed that such a thing was still far from sight. A specific anxiety that he used to harbor had resurfaced, and had now begun to threaten their relationship. He didn't know where to direct his anxiety and the burgeoning anger in his heart. He didn't know if he should blame Quistis for lying to him. Maybe he should try to understand her since it did appear at face value that she was doing him a favor, having disappeared from everyone's sight to hide a most unnerving truth about that night nine months ago.

But the truth had finally caught up with them. Squall was thinking that he shouldn't be bothered by the guilt of secrecy. After all, it was Quistis who concealed everything from him. It wasn't his decision or influence in any manner. Maybe that shouldn't have been his responsibility, and he tried to insist this despite the nibbling conviction that it wasn't really the case.

But still, if every garnish of exaggeration and every crust of denial were stripped away from the controversy, he would still be left with the fact that something did happen between him and Quistis that night. Even though he could rightfully claim innocence to the crime of willfully deceiving Rinoa, Squall was still left with the truth that he and Quistis shared a night that was meant only for lovers.

However he sliced it, it was still an act of betrayal.

And to aggravate the predicament, he had to ask himself how many people had done such a thing and still managed to walk away as though nothing happened. No harm, no foul, as the adage went. That should have been the case with him and Quistis. But it wasn't. He asked himself why, and realized that there could only be one answer. And that answer may well destroy everything between him and Rinoa. What in the world should he do now?

Face his fear. Know for sure. Find out once and for all if he indeed had something to be afraid of. And hope that the ghost was just an illusion. Hope, probably against hope itself, that Quistis had an entirely different reason for leaving.

"Hey you!" Rinoa exclaimed cheerfully upon seeing Squall emerge from the doorway. "Have you been eavesdropping on us?"

Squall managed a timid smile. "No. I just got here," he said. Alys smiled at him as she walked by.

"I'll just leave you two love birds alone, okay?" she said while winking at Rinoa. "Later, Rinny."

Squall wanted to smile back at the Silver Star, but he could no longer force it out. The guilt had effectively squashed any semblance of good cheer in him. Good thing he wasn't known to be the perky type like Selphie. Alys could easily dismiss his flatness as being in character.

He turned just as Rinoa planted a gentle kiss on his lips. "Hey, feel like doing something tonight? I thought you might wanna ride to Timber with me and see a movie…"

Squall looked at her. Rinoa quickly held two fingers against his lips.

"Enjoy a little candlelight dinner…"

He tried to talk, and she gently shook her head at him.

"… Sleep over at the hotel…"

Rinoa's eyes were dreamy, almost shimmering with its own sparkle. And Squall knew she was having one of those overly romantic moods again. Normally, such a moment served as an oasis in the middle of a bone-dry desert for him. No matter what his disposition was, such a behavior had always been welcome. Squall's attitude may have normally been as warm as a winter day in Trabia to most people, but he still knew better than to not drop everything whenever Rinoa got into this mood.

Now, he just felt crushed by the guilt.

How could he have betrayed her like this?

**----------**

Martha Deen-Stuart was the kind of woman to whom no one would ever be intimidated to approach. Nearing the age of sixty and living alone save three housemaids, she was unusually jolly and cordial to people for her age and situation. She had always thought that being miserable in response to one's lonesome state was like pouring gasoline over a forest fire when what people should be doing was pouring water. Martha never believed in sulking. For her, it was one's responsibility to derive delight for herself whatever her state of life may be.

She would have preached this principle to Lucresia Scaramanga if she had known the convicted old woman personally. While reading the daily paper, Martha could only shake her head in pity for the woman, whose crime had been attributed by the media to her achingly lonesome state in life, having been allegedly abandoned by her two sons. It didn't have to be that way, Martha thought. If she could, she'd have done something to exhort Lucresia to adopt a different outlook.

It was now moot, Martha thought as she read on. The day before, Lucresia Scaramanga had been executed by lethal injection before a Galbadian tribunal for charges of attempted genocide and treason, for her deed of awakening the nihilistic demigod Vesta one year ago. Such a waste of life, she pondered on.

Not that she was speaking hypocritically. For all indications, Martha's situation really wasn't far off from the condemned old woman. She herself had to undergo the tragic loss of her husband and children, all members of the Timber military force, who died in sporadic encounters between their squads and Galbadian shock troopers. If anyone had any right to lose it just because of the loss of loved ones, it was Martha. But she chose not to dwell on it and instead cherished whatever she had left.

And one of these was her beloved niece, Iris. Herself an orphan, Iris had been left to the care of the loving woman after her father – Martha's brother – and mother both succumbed to the atrocities that had been rampant during the first Sorceress War. Martha took her in willingly and was only too happy to treat Iris as her own, in the process keeping her from being adopted by the like-minded and kindhearted couple Cid and Edea Kramer, proprietors of an orphanage in Centra.

She had always been proud of Iris and supportive of her dreams. When the young girl first expressed her desire to enter Balamb Garden, Martha had been all out in supporting her dreams, even though it broke her heart that they'd be parting ways in the process. But even though apart, she had kept close watch on her niece. Whenever Iris received an award, she would throw a party in her big house in Timber. Whenever she got into a bind, the older woman would immediately call her up and console her.

When Iris told her about Zell, Martha was a bit skeptical at the prospect of her entering a relationship. But she still invited the two of them for a weekend stay in her house. Zell couldn't have received a warmer welcome save the one his own mother had always accorded him. And when Iris became a SeeD, Martha asked the Timber TV station's network president to congratulate her on the air.

Martha loved Iris like her own. She became the daughter the elderly woman never had, and more than made up for the slack left behind by her deceased husband and sons. And whenever Iris visited, Martha would always throw a party and invite virtually the whole of Timber to celebrate with them.

She would have been busy preparing for a bash today after Iris arrived the day before. But Martha chose to forego the party for now when her niece complained of recurring stomach pains, which was the very reason why she took a vacation in the first place. She had gotten up earlier than usual this morning to call her personal doctor. It was merely ten minutes ago when Martha was told that the doctor was on his way. Now, she was whiling the time away with the morning paper, feeling sorry for Lucresia for having chosen the wrong path to cure her loneliness.

"Good morning, Aunt Martha."

She quickly looked up to the stairway. "Good morning, dear," Martha said as she immediately stood up, as though preparing herself for what Iris may need. "It's nice to see you up early."

"Actually, I hardly slept a wink last night," Iris said with a sluggish voice. "I feel terrible."

Martha felt worried. "Are you still having those stomach pains?"

"Yeah. I think it's getting worse," Iris complained, grimacing while clutching her stomach. "It feels like something's eating me from inside."

"Don't worry, dear," Martha said to try and console Iris. But concern was still written all over her face. "I've already called Doctor Fabool. He'll be here to check you out." Martha ascended the stairs to meet her niece halfway.

But before the elderly woman could reach her, Iris suddenly seized, as though an electric stun gun had been shoved into her stomach. "Iris!!!" Martha screamed after her, who then had begun to collapse down on the marble steps. The older woman quickly rushed to her side. "Iris?!? Are you all right? Iris!!!"

Martha Deen-Stuart became gripped by horror when Iris started convulsing violently in her arms. Her skin quickly turned from creamy to pale, and then to a nearly grayish hue as her seizures worsened and her mouth began to foam. When Martha held her, Iris felt cold to the touch.

"Oh my God! What's happening to you, Iris?!? IRIS!!!" Her panicked screams reverberated throughout the big house. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP US!!!"

----------

Rinoa couldn't help but pout. Especially during the recent days, it hadn't been a common thing for her to feel overly romantic like how she had been feeling today. Whenever it happened, she had always tried to capitalize on it by consummating a tender time together with Squall. As far as she could remember, he had always welcomed such occasions. But that wasn't the case now.

"This is the first time you turned me down when I'm in this mood," she whimpered. "Do you already have something else planned for today?"

Squall wanted to say 'No'. But if he did, he thought it might only fuel more suspicion in Rinoa. On the other hand, if he said 'Yes', he would be pressured to come up with a damn good excuse…

… Or be compelled to tell the truth.

"Well…?"

Squall had not been the perfect boyfriend for Rinoa, and he knew this. But one more thing that he wasn't, at least to her, was a liar. His mind warred against his conscience whether or not to turn this moment into the first time or not.

But if he lied to her and she found out from someone else, what then?

Nope, there was no way out of this. Turning down date invitations had never been easy… especially if one was keeping a vicious secret.

Squall drew a deep breath before reluctantly starting. "I… ran into Marcus this morning at the training center," he began, his chest pounding, his face trying hard to project a jovial look. "Guess what he told me."

"What?" Rinoa replied, smiling.

"He saw Quistis."

"WHAT? He did?!?" she exclaimed. "Was he able to talk to her?"

"I suppose so. You know how Marcus is when it comes to Quisty. I wouldn't be surprised if he actually tracked her down and not just ran into her."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Rinoa chuckled. Her voice then turned more serious. "So what did he say about her? How's she doing? Is she living together with Hunter like what we all think?"

"I don't know," Squall said, his nervousness growing, realizing that sooner or later he'd be required to tell her what he had planned about Quistis. "I didn't ask for the details. All I know is he found her in Dollet. That's probably where she had been staying all this time."

"Oh good!" she enthused. And Squall had to brace himself. He knew what Rinoa was coming to. "Let's go see her!"

"We can't," he quickly answered.

Rinoa's face turned quizzical. "Why not?"

"I'm not sure…" was all Squall could say. He didn't know how to deliver his next words.

Rinoa continued her curious grilling. "Why, what's wrong? She's in trouble, isn't she? Is that why she left without telling us where she was going?"

An opening?

"I'm not sure about the details," he replied, intent on taking advantage. "But I do think she might be in some kind of a bind. That's why…" Squall hesitated. To his consternation, he felt a block in his throat, preventing him from saying that he needed to see her on his own.

He didn't know what to feel when Rinoa completed his sentence. "You think she's in some kind of trouble that's why you had to go see her. And the rest of us can't come with you. For now. Right?"

He looked at her meaningfully, his eyes asking if it was okay for him to see the instructor alone. To Squall's relief, Rinoa returned with her trademark sweet smile and an understanding series of nods

"Yeah, it's okay," she returned. "I don't mind."

"Really?"

"Squall…" Rinoa wrapped her arms around him. "You and Quisty go a long way back, and I know that you care about her despite all this 'talk to a wall' balderdash. So… don't worry about me. I'm not going to go hysterical just because of this. Go see her, and say hi to her for me, okay?"

Squall felt his chest loosening a little bit, making it possible to answer her with a smile. "All right. Anything you want me to bring you when I get back?"

"Just bring yourself back in one piece," Rinoa retorted, after which she eagerly pulled Squall towards her and gave him a prolonged, wet and immensely seductive kiss on the lips. "Just so you know what you'll be missing while you're away. Hurry back, okay?"

"I will." he said before turning around. Just before making his exit, Rinoa called him back once more.

"And Squall… I love you so much…"

Squall felt his heart shatter again.

----------

Merely a few yards separated his personal office from the receiving room. But for General Caraway, this was probably the longest walk he took in traversing the distance between the two rooms. As he anxiously strutted, a slew of questions and speculations were running back and forth in his mind. Not because this was the first time he was visited by no less than a highly decorated SeeD from Balamb Garden or due to the fact that he didn't usually receive such visits. He would have taken this with hardly a grain of salt... if not for the name given him by his personal aide.

Irvine Kinneas. A name that sounded to him like a proverbial nuclear blast from the past… Or the voice of a conscience that simply refused to stay its accusations. It wasn't as if this was the first time Caraway had an audience with the gunslinger. They had met in at least two separate occasions before: one was when Irvine was assigned to the SeeD team tasked to assassinate then-Sorceress Edea, and the other was when Caraway personally asked him to get his daughter out of a desert prison facility reserved for political criminals. In both occasions, Caraway had felt the same anxiety, but to a lesser degree since it was him who initiated the event. Obviously, it wasn't the case this time, so he didn't know what Irvine could possibly want with this visit.

No… General Caraway knew of at least one non-ludicrous reason why Irvine was here. And that reason, for him, was the biggest fear he had ever known. Though struggling, he gathered every iota of effrontery in himself to finally open the door of the reception room.

He wandered his eyesight momentarily before finding Irvine seated behind the desk with a globe beside it. Richard Caraway cleared the frog inside his throat before addressing his grim-looking guest, uttering a silent prayer for his fears to not come into fruition.

"Mr. Kinneas, what a surprise" he thundered with the purest of hypocrisies. He had intended to say 'pleasant', but he didn't want to overdo his already glaring pretension. General Caraway had never been the gracious host type. "What brings you to my rather tumultuous town?"

"General…" Irvine softly acknowledged, the grave look in his face showing no sign of change.

The Galbadian general felt his anxiety grow more intense, his steely eyes disguising his apprehension as they locked at the viciously silent SeeD.

"As you can see," he spoke out to lighten the thickening tension between them, "It's not only your Garden that's bearing the brunt of that lunatic governor's incessant ranting. We've been having this problem since a couple of days ago… and frankly, I'm not sure what I should do anymore."

The gunslinger didn't utter a word, his attention single-mindedly fixed on General Caraway with the kind of cold and hostile gaze that wasn't typical for a jovial ladies' man like him. It was so out of character, so much that the behavior didn't escape General Caraway's notice. Nevertheless, the latter opted to maintain his casual stance.

"By the way, how's my little girl doing? I hope she's having a better time coping with all these than I am."

Silence still. At this point, there can be no doubt in the general's mind that the SeeD wasn't here for a social call. No way. He gave Irvine a revealing look of recognition, which the latter promptly returned with an almost questioning, at the same time condescending expression.

"How did you manage to get inside, anyway?" Caraway said, turning unwittingly towards the wide picture window, from where he could easily see the crowd of protestors camping just outside his house. "You've probably noticed that nice mob I have on my doorstep."

"With this…" Irvine finally spoke out while holding up the Exeter. General Caraway was slightly taken aback when he noticed that the gun's safety was off.

What? Even if Irvine had indeed come for the very thing he had been suspecting, and fearing, the young SeeD wouldn't be so stupid as to actually start a fight. If he were after revenge, he wouldn't be so dumb as to strike now. He may be a SeeD, but that hardly upped his odds against the squad of Galbadian anti-riot soldiers stationed just outside the mansion. Besides, Caraway refused to believe him to be so foolish. The world supposedly regarded him with the honor aptly befitting the hero that he has turned out to be. Irvine wouldn't just throw everything away…

Would he?

But still, even if the idea sounded foolish, General Caraway cannot allow himself to lay down his guard. Instinctively, his right hand discreetly moved to feel the 9-millimeter pistol holstered inside his topcoat.

"Don't try it, General. You may be Galbadia's greatest soldier, but you're still nowhere near as fast as me when it comes to that."

"And what makes you think I'd shoot you?" Caraway asked.

"What makes you think I won't?" was Irvine's cold reply.

At this point the general could no longer deny the hostility that had Irvine in its grips. Though prepared for instances like this, he still felt anxious and insecure, and it was not because he had been out of action for so long. Neither was it because he knew no one quicker with a gun than the young man before him.

It was the secret.

General Caraway felt his stomach churning. No matter how hard a front he had tried to forge, he was still after all, only human. And one of the main traits that separated humans from animals was that humans had always been susceptible to guilt, no matter how callous they pretended to be. The more hardened ones merely knew how to conceal guilt. He certainly was one of those who excelled in hiding his. He had been doing it for the last nineteen years.

And now everything was in danger of bursting high and wide, like a volcano that had been threatening to erupt for decades. At this point, General Caraway had come to realize that he had no choice but to face the specter he had been running from all this time. It had finally caught up to him, and now was standing before him with a gun.

A gun… and a strange grin.

"I came here because I have a confession to make," Irvine suddenly said.

General Caraway didn't budge. His face was still unflappable, successfully hiding his dread.

The SeeD didn't seem to mind the general's lack of attention. Or maybe he was so sure that it was about to change.

"I slept with Rinoa the other night."

Irvine's statement sounded so incredulous General Caraway almost felt like laughing, if he hadn't known the renown the SeeD had popularly held among his peers. If anyone knew Irvine Kinneas inside and out, it had to be General Richard Caraway himself. After all, he was the one responsible for Irvine's transfer to Galbadia Garden after discovering his presence in that old stone house somewhere in eastern Centra. He wanted him there, to be able to keep close watch of him. Caraway had even found it a little amusing when Galbadia Garden Master Martine Dodona first reported Irvine's inclination to the gun as his weapon of choice. If there had been any doubt to his identity that related him to the general, that fact had laid it all to rest. General Caraway himself had been a champion marksman many times in his prime. Irvine definitely took after him well. And like most generational patterns, he even bettered his old man. And in more ways than one. Irvine was evidently a hundred times more skilled than Richard Caraway in the fine art of swinging. And he knew it. He would have been proud of him if it had not been for the secret.

And here he was, claiming that he had bedded Rinoa. All of the sudden, what used to be a silly scenario became deadly serious for General Caraway. What if he had been wrong about Irvine's purpose for this audience? What if he really didn't know the truth, and had come here merely to display a most unusual behavior of gloating a supposed accomplishment before a man who'd bury him neck deep in the middle of a bomb testing site because of it? The bottom line: what if it was true that he had slept with Rinoa?

"You're kidding, right?" was all General Caraway had managed to say. Irvine's grin grew wider.

"What do you think? You've been around, General," he said with palpable sarcasm. "You probably know what kind of reputation Irvine Kinneas has among the ladies."

Yes, he knew. And Caraway hoped it didn't have to be true. The scenario he just presented was too mind-blowing.

"And Rinoa's one of the most gorgeous babes I've ever met. And knowing who I am, what I can do and had always wanted to do, I simply COULDN'T pass up on someone like her, can I? Surely you've been to a situation of spotting a girl that you KNEW you just had to have, right?"

The contempt in Irvine's voice was too heavy, Caraway thought. There had to be a more grievous reason for this visit. He was consequently torn by the implications. His fears trained back to that specter he had contemplated about just before. He wished it were that, and yet he also hoped it wasn't.

Damn, which one would he have wanted to be a hoax? Which one could he live with a little less torturously? What kind of mess had he done in his life that his choices had now been reduced between the lesser of two evils?

"So…?" Caraway tried to act uncaring. "Rinoa's a big girl now. S-She can take care of herself. It's not anymore my place to tell her what and what not to do."

What the hell was he saying? Even if Rinoa had turned into the worst slut in the world and had gone to bed with nearly every boy she knew, she just couldn't do it with Irvine Kinneas. She just can't! Not with Irvine Kinneas!

"Tell me it isn't true…" Caraway finally muttered under his breath. Irvine heard it, and felt a morbid sense of victory well up from his chest. It was time to drop the real bomb.

"Well, not really." He said. "But it could have happened. Like a few months ago, Garden held a welcoming party for freshmen, which, ironically, was hosted by our good friend Zeilgr Markkon back when he wasn't the asshole he is now," Irvine started to recount as he lifted himself off from the expensive swivel chair. "After dinner, the usual crew got together for a few rounds that turned a little rowdier than we had planned. Even Quistis got herself drunk, imagine that."

* * *

Author's Note 1: The event mentioned above was not explicitly shown anywhere. But that welcoming party held in Zeilgr Markkon's mansion in Winhill was featured in the short fic _**"Have You Seen My Feet**_?" and its flipside story _**Heartstrings**_.

* * *

Caraway listened intently as Irvine went on. "Things really got a little wild, so much that I didn't at all mind that Arturo Hagel came a little too close for comfort with Selphie. But they were never out of my sight for more than two minutes so I really didn't think something happened that I should be suspicious of. Besides, I wasn't having it bad myself. I was with Rinoa. And she was so out of it I could easily have pulled her in a room and gotten away with it. Squall was nowhere in sight, and Zell and Quistis were out cold. So who was there to stop me?"

Irvine paused, his jaws stiffening as though he had just pondered on some kind of heresy. His voice was dark and heavy when he continued.

"It's a good thing Squall's my friend. I may be a notorious ladies' man, but I would never make a move on my friend's girl. I suppose that's what's been keeping me from eating a bullet."

So nothing really happened. General Caraway wanted to feel relieved, but he knew he couldn't. He just knew Irvine was en route to something much more unnerving than that. Again, he was back to worrying about his nineteen-year old fear.

"But what if Squall weren't my friend, huh?"

Nineteen years. He thought he had gotten away with it.

"Then I would have friggin' screwed my own sister."

He was wrong.

"What then, you stupid idiot?"

**End of Chapter IX**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Rinoa wasn't used to being the adviser. Normally, in matters of the heart she'd be the one who would be lost and seeking counsel from her closest friends. She wasn't accustomed to the situation being reversed like this.

On the other hand, it was a rather good thing she wasn't the one with the problem this time. Back when Seifer confused the hell out of her, Zone and Watts were there to keep her company and provide her with counsel. They weren't the best advisers in the world, and more frequently she'd end up running her face to a brick wall whenever she listened to them. But the comfort their mere presence provided was already a big help for a girl who couldn't tell for sure if a guy loved her for what she was or for what she could do in bed. Well, not that she was such an expert. But some guys were like that.

And now, it was almost funny to think that people wanted her advice. How desperate could one possibly be? Well, she didn't know the degree in Selphie's case. But Rinoa at least realized how serious the dilemma was tormenting her friend. And now, it was Zell's turn to call her for her vaunted listening ear.

She sighed. "If only Quisty were here…"

Rinoa was thinking about how Quistis could easily solve all of the world's ills, or at least the heart problems of most of her friends in Garden. It was almost ironic, though, that she wasn't able to solve her own heart problem. Rinoa couldn't avoid thinking that just maybe, Squall was the reason why she left Garden without telling them where she went. She wanted to completely free herself from the ordeal of always seeing him and being able to do nothing about her feelings.

What the hell was she saying? If she still believed this, then why in the world did she let Squall go see Quistis all by himself? Dollet wasn't next door by any stretch of the imagination. SeeDs always had to spend the night there whenever they carried on consultation missions prior to setting up the Garden outposts. And if Squall was spending the night, alone with Quistis, and with the feelings she had for him, and Quistis having been voted as _Eighteen_ Magazine's World's Most Desirable Teenager for three consecutive years…

Nah. Ancient history, Rinoa subsequently thought. Quistis was her friend. Surely she'd never endanger their friendship just for something as trivial as stealing a moment with Squall. Quistis was way better than that.

Besides, what of that Hunter character? She wouldn't elope with him if she didn't love him, right? _Nope_, Rinoa told herself. She absolutely had nothing to worry about.

She was mildly startled upon noticing that she was already by Zell's room.

----------

There was no denying it now as the confirmation came like a cold slap on Richard Caraway's face. The secret was out, and he didn't know what to worry about more: the possibility that he was going to be exposed, or that this man to whom he owed a world of anger happened to be the fastest gun on the planet. But still, Caraway felt compelled to ask.

"What… what else do you know?"

In the face of morose victory, Irvine felt his resolve buckle. Despite what Zeilgr Markkon claimed as the grimmest revelation in his life, Irvine tried to instill a soundness of mind that allowed him what he thought was needed skepticism. There could have been a lot of reasons why Markkon would try to tell him something as monumentally unnerving as that. At its basest, everything could have been a hoax, and all the things Markkon said were just a part of his plan to undermine General Caraway's integrity. If he could somehow find a way to introduce enmity between key figures in Balamb Garden and Galbadia, things may just fall apart in a way that would serve his malevolent purpose. If Markkon could get into his head and use his sensibilities as an orphan to turn him against one of Garden's foremost allies, that could count as a big advantage to the governor's cause.

Pretty friggin' thin.

But Irvine struggled to think straight despite his embattled mind. Come what may, he had to learn the truth. But he must do it in such as way as to avoid compromising what he considered a shaky alliance. Ever since the founding of Balamb Garden, cordiality between it and Galbadia had been extremely tenuous, if not nonexistent. The only thing that had made it possible was General Caraway's ascension to the seat of power. Forces were still at work to tip the uneasy balance, with one of the most remembered examples being the coup de tat that exploded a year ago. He knew that despite General's Caraway's leadership, things could still go wrong if given a push at the right direction.

He had only intended to get a feel of General Caraway's reaction to that scenario he presented about him and Rinoa. And Irvine had done his homework with the run-of-the-mill girls and their dads well. If he had done the same stunt to retired General Garland Lee back when he still dated the latter's then-upstart Corporal daughter Lidia, he would have learned tap dancing the hard way.

General Caraway's silence was so off the mark. The paling of his face was totally beyond expectations. The way he reacted with clenched jaws instead of a drawn pistol when Irvine baited him by saying that he slept with Rinoa was absolutely unmistakable.

There could be no denying that he was now face to face with his father.

General Caraway repeated his question. "What else do you know?"

Irvine's eyes squinted.

"Captain… sponsorship… young Galbadian socialite…" was his slow and calculated answer, accompanied by a hateful sneer. "… Menken. Carina… Menken…!"

General Caraway's face grew pale. Irvine knew more than he had expected. He knew about Carina Menken.

His mother.

It was a name the General had struggled hard to forget. _Carina Menken_… For Galbadian Army General Richard Caraway, that was the ominous sound that carried a thousand stabs of guilt and reprisal. The memories of a woman he wronged out of what he claimed to be necessity triggered a backlash of toxic recollections reeking with the pitiful wails of a scorned soul desperately begging for mercy. Unexpected waves of guilt-induced qualm gripped his mind as unwanted memories came flooding back with a vengeance.

_"I'm sorry, Carina. But I have to do this."_

_"Richard... no...! We're going to have a baby... Aren't you happy about this...?_

_"Lower your voice! Julia might hear us."_

_"So what? You're better off living with me, Richard. I'm carrying your child. Our baby needs a father, can't you understand?"_

_"No. YOU understand this: I love Julia. And I will never allow either you, that child you claim to be mine, or anyone... to hurt my wife."_

_"Yeah, sure. Believe it as much as you want. But all your hypocritical posturing will never hide the fact that all you really care about is your precious reputation! High and mighty General Richard Caraway, war hero of the great nation of Galbadia... threatened by the truth that he will be a father to a nameless, bastard son! That's the only thing you care about!!!"_

_"... Say whatever you want. But I will not allow you to ruin my life. You will leave Deling City whether you like it or not."_

_"Richard... Richard... listen to me. We're going to have a son. You told me once that you've always wanted a son to carry on your name. Now I'm giving it to you... please don't do this to me..."_

_"It doesn't matter, Carina. Even if it is true that I'm the father of the child you carry... it can never compete against the fact that Julia is also carrying my child."_

_"What...?"_

_"She's also pregnant, Carina. So stop believing that you have any hold on my favor just by claiming that the baby you're carrying is my son. I... I don't care."_

_"You lie... Tell me you're just lying..."_

_"It doesn't matter... Goodbye, Carina."_

_"Richar..."_

_"Goodbye."_

Author's Note: Carina Menken and her relationship with General Caraway were briefly mentioned in the short Julia Heartilly fic _**To Love Again**_

----------

"Selphie?"

The Trabian lass was surprised when Rinoa entered Zell's room. For a moment, her face paled. But Selphie remembered that she had already told Rinoa about her and Zell.

"Hi, Rinny. What are you doing here?"

_I should be asking you that question._ Rinoa thought. But she already knew the answer.

"Zell called me, said he had something he wanted to talk to me about."

"Oh…" Selphie faded. Maybe Zell intended to confide to Rinoa like how she did. "That's kinda odd considering that he just left."

"He what?"

Selphie turned to her, confusion written all over her face. "He just left, Rinny. Zell usually keeps his duffel bag in his closet, and it's not there. Some of his clothes are also missing."

_How much does she already know about his routine?_ Rinoa had to ask herself. Even though she already knew about the two of them, Selphie's familiarity with Zell's habits still amazed her. She was quite familiar with how anal the martial artist was when it came to his private life.

"You don't think someone kidnapped him, do you?" she quipped. Selphie appreciated it with a mild smile.

"Nope, no ransom note. But I did find this." The Trabian held up a note written in Zell's handwriting. Rinoa took the note and read it. It said something about Zell needing to go to Timber right away.

"Why? What's in Timber?"

"Iris' aunt." Selphie answered. Rinoa replied with a puzzled look, to which Selphie opted to explain despite feeling dejected about it. "I heard Iris suddenly filed a leave of absence and…"

Rinoa chose to spare her the trouble. "And you think he followed her there." Selphie nodded sluggishly. And Rinoa didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out how her friend felt about it. Walking towards her, the Galbadian princess gently put her arms around Selphie's shoulders and guided her to sit on the bed.

"Sef, you yourself told him that the two of you shouldn't pressure each other with demands, right? Remember how you told him that you're still officially Irvy's girlfriend?" There went that sluggish nod again from Selphie. "That also applies to him. And I'm quite sure that whatever sentiments you have for Irvine, Zell's also got it for Iris. I know the situation sucks, but that's the way it is."

Selphie pouted. "I hate all this being in the same boat crap. Anyway, I really didn't intend to see him, but I can't seem to find Irvine anywhere."

"What? When the cat is away…?"

"Rinny!"

"All right, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. So where did Irvine go?"

"I don't know, he didn't tell me he was leaving."

"Well, at least Squall told me where he was going."

"Squall's also gone? Where'd he go?"

Rinoa almost keeled over the question in excitement. If there was anyone who'd be as happy to know that she had heard something about Quistis, it was Selphie. But considering the circumstances that Squall recounted, Rinoa doubted if it would be right to let the cat out of the bag just yet. Maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea to preempt Quistis. She subsequently decided not to do it.

"Somewhere. He told me not to tell anyone… yet. It's a private matter for him."

"Typical…" Selphie trailed off. She then stood up, with Rinoa following her movement with her gaze. "Since our boys are all out partying, I might as well do the same thing. Care to join me, Rinny?"

"Where're you going?"

"Arturo invited me to lunch. I was going to say No, but…"

Arturo Hagel. So the rumors she had been hearing about his crush on Selphie might just be true. But that was hardly Rinoa's business. She just didn't think it wise for Selphie to lead the straight C guy on knowing how badly she rebuffed his previous attempts at inviting her out.

"No thanks," Rinoa said. "I'll just kill time in the library or something." Selphie smirked at her before making her exit.

Rinoa allowed a few minutes to elapse, wondering what could have happened that made Zell leave that hastily. Must be something important, she unwittingly thought.

She was about to leave when the phone suddenly rang. Rinoa ignored it and went on her way. But a couple of paces from Zell's room, she noticed that the phone hadn't stopped ringing yet. Must be something urgent, she pondered. It didn't take long before Rinoa decided to come back to answer the phone call herself.

----------

"Why?"

General Caraway's vision of Carina Menken faded, giving way to that of the son he so callously rejected.

"Why did you do it?"

General Caraway looked at Irvine. The contempt in his voice had suddenly disappeared, giving way to a yearning timbre desperately seeking for answers. He felt somewhat pleased to realize that he had gained the upper hand in this bitter psychological war, but together with it he also sensed something that made him feel appalled at himself. He started to feel sympathy, a feeling of remorse for the fate he had helped bestow his estranged son.

And he hated himself for this. Throughout his life, one of Richard Caraway's guiding principles had been his stubborn adherence to a loftiness that did not permit him to capitulate to anyone's accusation of his wrongdoing. He had allowed himself to live nearly half a lifetime of estrangement with his beloved daughter because of this majestic image he had of himself. And he abhorred the thought of giving in to some mercenary laying a claim similar to that of the woman he drove away nearly two decades ago. He abhorred the thought of giving in to his own guilt.

General Caraway chose to stand his ground.

"It is not for you to question my motives, Irvine. Nor will it ever be."

His words were like a pair of iron gloves that struck Irvine in the face. He was dumbfounded and could hardly believe what he heard. Here he was, standing in front of the man to whom he owed his existence. The same man to whom he also owed this petrifying hatred for being the one responsible for stealing away his roots. Prior to coming here, Irvine had believed that, at the very least, General Caraway should and would make an effort to express his contriteness for a decision that had brought so much pain to another. Irvine may have understood Caraway's precarious situation, but he could never take the transgression committed by this man against his mother sitting down. He expected General Caraway to at least pretend that he felt sorry about it.

But instead he stood before him, the man who supposedly sired him, proclaiming in his face that he wasn't answerable to anything, much less whatever cruel fate that befell his mother. That he wasn't one to willingly answer to the accusations of the son he completely and unrepentantly shunned from his life and his name. The distraught SeeD could hardly express his shock. He could hardly believe the audacity he was seeing from the Galbadian general.

"Am I… hearing you right?" he blurted out, his voice shaking. "Did you just say that I have NO RIGHT to question what you did?"

General Caraway didn't answer, and instead turned a stoic gaze towards the beleaguered SeeD. His face reeked with apathy. Richard Caraway was determined to declare that he could not and would not allow himself to be questioned by anyone for anything. Irvine was desperate to see a semblance of compassion from the General's eyes. But he did not. Someone whose heart was as hardened as his couldn't possibly be real. It wasn't real. Irvine's blood rushed violently to his head, resulting in a sudden bout of lightheadedness that made him slightly tip towards the solid oak wood desk.

"I… I'm confused… I… how can you… say that…?"

"You are too young, Irvine, to understand what really happened between me and your mother."

"What's… what's not to understand?" Irvine replied. "You just used her to get what you want, to reach as high as you possibly could in the military. Then when you met someone else, you conveniently came up with this sorry excuse that she comes from a family with a history of genetic insanity. What's there to not understand?"

General Caraway was surprised by how much Irvine knew. He pretended not to care, or at least he tried. Such knowledge couldn't have come to the SeeD's awareness without the aid of people who knew his deepest secrets. These he had to know.

"How did you learn about all this? Have you been talking to Flo…?"

"Is that important?" the SeeD quickly snapped back. "Or are you just scared that I might spill the beans on this particular escapade of yours. That's it, isn't it? That's how it all boils down."

"What do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean, _father_!" Irvine growled, the last word spoken with pure contempt. "You're afraid that I might ruin your reputation. That if someone discovers our real relationship, you're scared that your people will scorn you and lose their respect for you. Tell me I'm wrong!"

General Caraway didn't answer, all the more aggravating Irvine's rage.

"My God, it is true. You really don't care about anything… except for your friggin' reputation."

"I have my reasons, Irvine. And whatever it is, it is solely to my discretion whether I should make you privy to it or not."

"I d-don't believe this… I friggin' don't believe this! How could anyone live with someone like you? How could Rinoa live with someone like you?"

The sound of Rinoa's name sent a chilling jolt upon the two spiteful men. For General Caraway, it was the cold fear of forever losing his beloved daughter's favor in the unfortunate event that she discovered his dark secret. For years the two of them had been separated by a wall of emotional indifference, made worse by their conflicting ideologies. Nevertheless, recent events had paved the way for their eventual reconciliation; an event the General had always fervently longed for despite his insistence on waiting for her to make the first move. It was the moment he had always wanted since the first words of anger were spoken a long time ago.

A moment now threatened anew by the resurfacing of an ugly truth in his past.

On the other hand, Irvine's concern stemmed from a sudden bout of sibling affection subjected under conflict. He closed his eyes tight while pondering on all those times he fought alongside his own sister without even knowing it. Without even knowing that he had a sister… who had been with him for the last two years.

Then there was that story he fabricated earlier. It carried no semblance of truth, but it may as well have. Was it some fail-safe of fate that he had been attracted to Selphie since they were kids? Or was it just a fortunate coincidence? What if it had happened? When Irvine made that story up, he didn't consider the full weight of its implications. Now the fact that he could have had sexual relations with his own blood sister as easily as he had with other girls brought a numbing chill up and down his spines.

"It was really a friggin' GREAT THING that Squall and I are friends, don't you think so, General?"

General Caraway was again shaken by the idea. What _would_ have happened if Squall and Irvine had not been friends, at the same time that Irvine knew Rinoa as anything other than his own sister? He knew Irvine as the most sought-after heartthrob in the defunct Galbadia Garden; and Rinoa, his pride and joy, as a beautiful girl whose stream of sniveling admirers never dwindled. In this respect, they shared so much of the family trait they acquired from General Caraway himself and, in Rinoa's double case, the immensely charming Julia Heartilly. What if that same family trait had pulled them to each other?

The abomination would have been on his hands. Two years ago, General Caraway gave the Go signal for Galbadia Garden Master Martine Dodona to use as cannon fodder a group composed of four SeeDs from Balamb Garden and one spoiled, rich army brat from Deling City who chose the life of a Timber rebel. He gave them the order to assassinate Edea Kramer, then a tyrant sorceress who sought to rule with a spiked iron grip. And in the process, he placed a keg of nitrate powder beside an open fire by putting Rinoa and Irvine in the same team, in the same clique, without their knowledge of each other's true identity.

General Caraway arranged for it all to happen. He did it, despite knowing that his two children had finally been united with the gravely erroneous understanding that they were fair game to each other. He knew it, and he still did it. What was he thinking?

But no matter how grave the possibility was, some proverbial demon still managed to coax General Caraway to bolster his effrontery. He crossed his arms, and then unleashed words that almost blew the SeeD's mind away.

"Well, be glad that it didn't turn out that way."

Irvine nearly pulled the Exeter's trigger.

"Be glad? BE GLAD?!? YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'd been rubbing elbows with my own sister for the last two years without even knowing it! How dare you deny me the opportunity to love her the way I should have! How dare you place us in that kind of situation? How dare you muck with my life… with both our lives as if they're some sort of a game for you!!!"

Irvine slumped to the floor, his body trembling ferociously out of the terrible rage and frustration. And for a moment, General Caraway felt a bitter streak of sympathy creeping through his heart while gawking at the distraught SeeD.

Irvine was, after all, the son he had always wanted. He was strong, intelligent and famous. And he certainly inherited his excellent qualities as a warrior. What father wouldn't be proud?

General Caraway hated it, but he couldn't do anything but accept the truth. He knew of the wrong he did. And he can't avoid accepting the fact that if ever he was given a chance, he won't think twice in correcting the mistakes he did in the past.

However, for the stubborn soldier, the past was still the past. He could no longer change things no matter how much he regretted his actions.

And he would rather face a thousand monsters with both hands tied behind his back than allow the son he wronged to be aware of this regret.

"I believe you have already overstayed your welcome, Irvine. Now, if you please. I'm a very busy man."

Deeming it futile to prolong his stay, Irvine slowly lifted himself up. With dejected but steeled eyes, he hurled a blank look at the father who refused to admit his mistake.

Perhaps Zeilgr Markkon had a point, the SeeD grimly pondered. Maybe General Caraway deserved to die after all.

He switched the Exeter's safety back to the 'On' position.

"I was... I was hoping that you would... at least be sorry for what you did," Irvine spoke out softly. Calmly, yet the utter despondency in his voiced couldn't be denied. The hatred numbing his nerves was beginning to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. "I so badly wanted you to apologize."

General Caraway didn't answer, opting instead to face the window. His facade was harsh, almost tyrannical. He didn't even budge when he heard the clicking sound of a door closing behind the sharpshooter who had just walked out of the room.

----------

Esthar's rocky terrain had always been an ideal site for testing the various war machines manufactured during Adel's regime. And the fearsome beasts the littered it made the task even more worthwhile as it subjected said weapons to actual combat situations. Malboros, Ruby Dragons, Hexadragons, name it, Esthar weaponry had evolved to fierce efficiency with the unwitting contributions of such creatures.

When Laguna Loire took over, production of these war machines had practically ceased. He had never believed in building military might up to the point of saturating his country with weapons of destruction. The Sorceress War was nearing an end and Esthar's citizens were just so sick of it. In the end, Laguna ended up closing Esthar from the rest of the world just so he could achieve the peace he promised its people.

He was, however, still a soldier, and he still adhered to the principle of combat readiness. He may have thought that they had enough weapons to last them ten Sorceress Wars, but the personnel behind them was an entirely different story. Under his command, the Estharian Scout Rangers and Marine Corps had undergone some of the most intense ground training in the history of the planet. From rigidly maintained boot camps in Kashkabald desert to harsh and prolonged survival training series in Trabia, the fourteen different Estharian Special Forces had gone through it all and more.

Siegfried Waller had been one of the more outstanding members of the Scout Rangers and its most decorated point man in fifty years. His track record had paved the way for missions that were deemed impossible for even other seasoned special operatives to perform. But despite his mountains of accolades, he still was no superman. And his last mission had ended with the bitterest of failures, made tragic by the death of his fiancée, fellow Scout Ranger Lieutenant Geraldine Rivera.

Then Major Ruth Pischke, covert ops specialist and the mover behind the doomed Squad Pi Alpha mission that was tasked to assassinate Galbadian despot Vinzer Deling, used to ponder if it was Geraldine's death that drove Siegfried to completely give his career up and retire. She didn't know that even before, Siegfried and Geraldine had promised each other that Squad Pi Alpha would be their last mission. After that, they shall begin to pursue a life together under the tutelage of Fisherman's Horizon mayor Aaron Dobe, whose gospel of absolute pacifism they had fully embraced.

Sadly, that was not to be the case. Geraldine Rivera died in the failed mission, leaving Siegfried to face his new life alone and reducing him to the impassive Familiar Face #3 that roamed Fisherman's Horizon's entrance, reminding visitors – often rudely – that FH would not tolerate belligerence within its bounds. Some people who received such reminders had wondered how in the world could FH enforce a directive that didn't allow it to maintain even a measly police force. Well, that was only because they didn't know who Siegfried Waller was.

His routine changed momentarily when circumstances compelled him to violate his code of behavior and join a group of SeeDs that took it upon themselves to vanquish the demigod Vesta and her cohort Tengu. It was a wonder that a pacifist like him would consent to working with what he had called as the most overrated mercenaries in the world. And he wouldn't have done so if not for Quistis Trepe, the popular Garden instructor with whom he eventually had an affair in the course of that task. It was, though, an affair that was doomed from day one, for neither of them was willing to compromise their principles for the sake of their relationship. Might as well, thought Siegfried. Quistis didn't look the type who'd settle for an older guy anyway.

_Author's Note_: Details of the above paragraph can be found in my first ever FFVIII fanfic _**The Fourth Universe**_

He had been thinking about the life he had led. Siegfried was now pushing thirty-three and still single. He had wondered about the reason behind his involuntary adherence to single blessedness. Maybe he was bound for greater things. Or maybe he was just kidding himself. Lately, though, he had been considering the possibility that he had remained single because it would have been a crying shame if he ended up widowing someone.

And if he had been married, widowing his wife certainly looked like the most possible of scenarios at the moment. For the last few days, Siegfried had been trying to elude this incognito who had been stalking him. It was one of those run-of-the-mill heinous crime cover-ups. He saw something that he probably shouldn't have seen. Wrong. He saw something he definitely shouldn't have seen. And now this guy intended to make sure he didn't share the secret with anyone.

And for an accomplished warrior of his caliber, this unknown shadow had been doing a fearfully effective job of routing him and neutralizing his every move. This person had called himself the Assassin, and had claimed that no one whom he'd set his eyes on to be quarry had ever escaped him. Never mind that the Assassin had initially caught him in a compromised situation of being unarmed. It was only his knowledge of the surrounding place that enabled him to outmaneuver the enemy long enough to return to his apartment to get his real weapon. Previously, he thought he had to contend with fighting using a nigh-useless steel cable.

At least he thought the odds would be better for him if he had the Soul Hunter, a mysterious pole arm that had the ability to call forth a myriad of terran elemental onslaughts. The might of the battle staff had been legendary; kingdoms were known to have risen and fallen depending on whose side was using it. It fell on his hands at a time when he was already leading his life as a pacifist, and so he never got to use it to full potentials other than when he joined Quistis and her friends in their fight against Vesta.

But whatever hopes he held were soon proven false. Against the Assassin, the Soul Hunter became like a toy. Siegfried had tried his hardest to repel his assailant with its powers but it all proved for naught. He had never faced an opponent as powerful as the Assassin.

No, he was wrong. Siegfried reverted his thoughts in remembering that he had faced someone whose power was just a tad stronger than the Assassin's, and it took his and nine other warriors' great efforts to vanquish that enemy – Vesta, the ancient demigod who was also Hyne's mortal enemy.

It was like the Assassin wielded the power of a veteran sorceress, one who had years of experience in using her powers. Memories of Sorceress Adel flooded his mind. This Assassin surely was an equal at the very least, the only difference being that he was a man. And Siegfried had never seen a man who wielded the power of a sorceress.

And now, that man wanted to kill him.

He had been running for days with hardly any time to rest. At first Siegfried was impressed by the Assassin's stamina. He knew very few who could match his. Now, he was just scared. Despite being a pacifist, his accomplishments as a warrior had afforded him a sense of security that made him believe very little in this world could threaten him. He now realized it was false security. No one was incredibly formidable when faced with a much stronger adversary.

Siegfried knew he now faced one. One that wanted him dead.

"Oh Sieeeeeeeg! Come on out, Sieg!" the Assassin's voice echoed with a wry tone. "It is 'Sieg', right? That's how that insufferable teacher called you when you two were still banging each other, right?"

Siegfried was surprised to hear that the Assassin knew about his brief involvement with Quistis. He couldn't help wondering about what else he knew.

"I gotta hand it to you, you surely collared one saucy wench. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You've always got a knack for getting the juicier ones. What was the name of that other one? Geraldine? Now that one was to die for, I have to say. I'd screw her until she dies with a smile on her face, if she wasn't already dead."

Great! Now this mook was trying to strike on his sensitivity to anything related to his late fiancée. Siegfried didn't know if he'd feel outraged by the Assassin's temerity or unnerved by how much he knew. It was either he was a killer who had a knack for doing his homework, or he was one whom Siegfried knew personally.

"I'd tell you about this girl that I like. But unfortunately, there's really nothing to tell since she doesn't like me the way I… you know. I just don't have the kind of charm that you do. Kinda unfair, you know. If I were an unreasonable fool, I'd rearrange your face because of it. But I shouldn't because it's really not your fault I was born a natural sex object. You know, whenever I ask a girl to have sex with me, she'd object. HA-HA! Get it? Whenever I'd ask a girl to have sex with me, she'd object!!! WHOO-HOO!!! HA-HA-HA!!! Aw gawd I just crack myself up every time!"

Funny. Yeah.

"But no," the Assassin continued. "I'd never get on your case because of that. I have an entirely different reason for wanting to kill you."

_Like hell you're gonna do me in that easily!_ Siegfried defiantly thought. But he didn't know if he had what it took to back those words up. He'd try to face the Assassin once more if he weren't aware of how futile it'd turn out to be.

And as though his stalker could read his mind, "Know what, I'm wasting a whole shitload of time trying to goad you to show yourself. I know you're scared. And you should be. Unfortunately, that's also been keeping you from showing your yellow-ass belly to me. And I'm getting sick of this hide-and-seek crap." He paused for a second. "So here's what I'll do. I'm just gonna grab someone from one of the houses here and slit his sorry-ass throat. And I'm gonna keep doing it every one minute until you decide to come out. How does that sound?"

Siegfried's face paled. He didn't expect the Assassin to resort to this tactic just to get to him. Needless to say, he had just been relegated to but one choice.

"Leave them out of this!" the warrior exclaimed as he swung up from a network of platform pipes where he had been taking refuge. "If it's me you want, then you got me."

"You have no idea," said the Assassin, his eyes blazing red in infernal delight. Siegfried braced himself. He honestly didn't know if he could beat his pursuer after seeing what he could do. He could try, knowing that it'd only be for a lost cause if he intended to actually prevail. But right now, he didn't care. He may be terrified, but that wasn't reason enough for him to let innocents suffer in his stead.

"Let's finish this."

"LET'S!" Hollered the Assassin, at the same time waving his hand to create a sudden vacuum around Siegfried. The violent movement of air rushing in to fill the gap nearly crushed Siegfried's head.

"AAAAH!" He screamed in pain. Instinctively, the Estharian warrior retaliated with his own elemental attack, focusing the Soul Hunter to conjure a Wind Blast that tried to knock the Assassin off his feet.

Tightly packed winds raged with the force of a battering ram that struck the Assassin head on. The impact knocked him against an empty water tank, causing it to almost collapse. Visibly shaken, the Assassin struggled to free himself from the metal tank that had dented around his body.

Siegfried knew he could not give an inch. Trying another tactic, he called upon the power of Water, Wind, Thunder and Poison and combined them in a destructive Acid Storm that razed the ground where his enemy stood. The Assassin winced in pain as the collective elemental attack surprised him. The mystical tempest lasted for a couple of minutes as Siegfried concentrated hard to prolong it as much as possible. When the Acid Storm finally ceased, he tried to look for the Assassin amidst the smoke of corroded iron and steel. Siegfried held his breath upon seeing him slumped in the middle of a simmering puddle of acid and water.

To his consternation, the Assassin began to stand up. His entire body was pulsating with a dull red glow that was steadily restoring his strength. Regen magic.

"I gotta admit, you got me a little stunned there. But if that's all you could do, then forget it. I can do a lot more than that!"

Without warning, a blazing trail of fire cut a swath across the metal platform they stood on, the inferno ending in a loud sizzle as the flames engulfed Siegfried. Searing pain immediately shot through his entire body just as another Fira spell pummeled him. Displaying unusual quickness, the Assassin followed with a Flare blast that connected hard on his prey. It became Siegfried's turn to crash against a hard steel wall.

Siegfried winced in pain. _Grrrggggh!_ his throat resonated, the torment rendering him unable to sound out even a decent groan. Siegfried doubled up, feeling his entire body on fire. His ordeal was made worse by a gash that opened behind his head by that collision against the steel escarpment. He struggled to avoid losing consciousness.

"That was one of my loser-weak attacks," the Assassin boasted. "And I thought I was in for a good fight. You are very disappointing, Waller."

With a wave of his arms, the Assassin made the surroundings tremble as a result of a powerful Ultima spell. It hit Siegfried dead on, introducing him to new heights of mind-blowing pain and suffering. He was almost out of breath when the magic attack ceased.

"Pathetically weak. You're not even worth my time."

In the midst of pain, a desperate Siegfried Waller turned his eyes on his tormentor. The Assassin hovered over him like an ancient explorer claiming new territories. Rage and pain mixing like a storm, there was nothing more in this world he wanted to do at this moment than to use his own hands to strangle the life out of his enemy.

But Siegfried's anger became replaced with fear. That was what he had been trying to do for the last few days, with no semblance of success whatsoever. He was helpless against his enemy, whose incredible powers were too much for him to overcome.

_No…!_ Siegfried struggled to be heard, but his voice had suddenly left him. His head must have hit harder than he thought. He felt his nape, and was startled to feel blood gushing out from it. If he failed to get medical attention within the next few minutes, he'd die from too much loss of blood.

So was that all there was to his life? Be an outstanding student, a crack military operative, and nothing more? Was he to die without knowing what it felt like to have both happiness and peace in his heart? Was he about to die now?

It was as though the Assassin knew what was in his mind. ""If you're asking yourself if you're about to die, then let me make it easy on you." His dark voice rippled, his hands holding the weakened Siegfried's head up, the latter roaring mentally in utter helplessness. The predator squeezed a nerve cluster in each of his prey's shoulders, paralyzing his arms instantly.

Siegfried didn't know anything anymore. All he knew was that he had suddenly lost his strength. He couldn't fight anymore.

"The answer is Yes."

Siegfried would have wished to see Quistis once more.

On the other hand, he was on his way to see Geraldine again.

The Assassin twisted his hands. Siegfried's head turned sharply. A blood-curdling crack echoed when his neck broke.

He smiled in contentment. "Heh, don't you just love the sound of snapping bones and joints?" The assassin expended a moment to neatly lower his dead quarry to the metal ground, and then reached into his pocket to pull out a cell phone. Mem 1 speed dialed a number in Winhill.

"I didn't even break a sweat," the Assassin said. "I thought you said he was a tough cookie."

"_I don't care about your ego,_ a familiar, raspy voice went out. _All I care about is: have you done your job?"_

"Governor Markkon, it couldn't have been easier to kill Siegfried Waller with both hands tied behind my back. My cat could have put up a more decent fight."

"_Fine. Boast as much as you want. But not before answering my question. Is Siegfried Waller dead?"_

"Dead and loving every friggin' minute of it."

----------

"_So what's next, Mr. High-and-mighty governor?"_

He had to wonder if his little agent had always been this cocky. Zeilgr Markkon remembered the first time he met the Assassin. He wasn't the Assassin back then, but nothing more than a disillusioned man who had nothing to look forward to in his miserable life. He was ambitious yet inadequate, he never had what it took to fulfill his dreams.

His misery made it easy for Markkon to convince him that he was bound for greater things. Markkon knew that in that dejected state, the man who would become the Assassin would bite at anything that was dangled in front of his face. He was the perfect pawn. The perfect subject. And considering his place in his own private circle, he was the perfect recruit to aid the governor's underhanded schemes.

And thanks to him, Markkon had just ironed out the one kink in his armor. Behind the scenes of his fiery propaganda, the governor had been laboring to eliminate an unexpected and potentially dangerous rough spot in his otherwise perfect plan. He wouldn't have worried much about it if it hadn't been Siegfried Waller who witnessed the unfolding of his big secret. If it had been someone else, his hired henchmen, who earlier had abducted the old man who holed in Esthar's Seaside station, would have easily taken care of it.

But Waller was no pansy. He was a highly skilled warrior, combat specialist, and trained killer. And more importantly, he had connections with Balamb Garden. Kidnapping an old geezer was one thing. His thugs would have eaten the ground against Waller. He required an agent that can match Waller's capabilities and more. He needed one infused with the forbidden power.

And the Assassin didn't fail him. He silenced Waller, making certain that his dark secret wouldn't explode in the open. It would have ended his designs right there and then if Waller had succeeded in getting the information to Balamb Garden. But he didn't have to worry anymore. His secret was safe, and his plans can now proceed.

"Do whatever you want. For now. But be ready. You're next mission is about to commence. And you already know what it is."

"_Sweet! I get to try out my new toy. Well, so long then, old pal. This Assassin has a lot of catching up to do."_

"I'm sure you do…"

Markkon was again free to dream of cold infernos and white hells, those that in his expectant visions were consuming Balamb Garden in chilled flames and ear-splitting shrieks of death and devastation. He was again back to business as usual.

Unwittingly, he remembered the look in Cid Kramer's face during the night of the SeeD inauguration. There were hues of suspicion, anger and fear all rolled into one. He jubilated in those memories, for he'd want nothing more than to see his enemies cowed before his presence. They should be, and they certainly would if they knew what he had in store for them.

Death. Death. And more death.

But not before he had brought them down to their knees. No. He couldn't attack them while they were strong. He mustn't. There was a good reason why Balamb Garden enjoyed the renown as the world's champion. And this should serve for him as a lesson that didn't have to be learned the hard way. Despots, fanatical terrorists, hatred-filled sorceresses, and demigods had failed miserably and fallen before them. He must make sure he wasn't counted among those failures.

He must make sure that in the end, he was the one laughing.

They had to pay for their crimes and their arrogance. They had to redeem themselves with blood, the same blood spilled by his wife and children who died as a direct result of their arrogance. They had to feel his revenge.

Yes. Revenge. They had to feel his revenge.

And he had to be certain they believed in that so-called revenge, if only to conceal the truth in his shaded agenda.

**End of Chapter X**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

A pillow would have been nice at a time like this. A pillow and a feather mattress. That must have been the thoughts running in his mind right now as he continued to toss and turn over the cotton cushion that was the only thing separating his bare back from the old and splintery surface of the bed that was only long enough to support the length of his legs up to his calves.

Little conveniences. But there was something peculiarly pleasant about this short bed, and Seifer really didn't mind the lack of pillows and a feather mattress. Those were just little conveniences that would have been nice if he had them. And it would have been a tremendous treat if he had found the pillows that had his initials embroidered on them. They would have come perfectly as he lay on his old bed. The bed that he used to occupy when he still lived in this stone orphanage.

He was actually quite surprised at himself. He didn't know that even he could be taken over by nostalgic reminiscing. It wasn't that he cherished the memories of the times he spent here. For one thing, merely two years ago he almost ended up killing the very same people he grew up with. Yeah, some nostalgia.

Or maybe he did cherish those memories, he just refused to admit it. It had never been the way of a knight. He was supposed to have been changing things, making everything new. The last thing Seifer needed was to dwell on the very visions that he had tried so hard to put an end to.

Yeah. He would have believed all this mind-blabbering if it had been two years ago. Yeah. He didn't believe in them anymore. The truth of the matter was he abhorred the very same ideals that pushed him to acts that he now called feats of incredible stupidity two years ago. Sorceress' knight? Young revolutionary? Where did he get all that crap? And what did he end up with? Wishing that he could do the ultimate impossible: reverse time and fix things up so that he wouldn't have had to commit those feats of incredible stupidity. That was how he ended up, yearning to sweep the milk back into the glass.

Seifer recalled what he did two years ago, of how he left Balamb Garden and led Galbadia Garden against it on that wide patch of forest a few hundred miles east from where he was now. And then he remembered what he learned about himself a couple of months previous – his past and his roots. He then wondered if he was still worthy to even be allowed to live after all those miserable moments and ghastly pictures that had tainted his existence from the start. He wondered if even someone like him actually deserved salvation.

But Seifer also remembered Edea's note. He remembered Cid's offer. He likewise wondered if there was still room for him to rectify his mistakes, make up for the damages he inflicted, or at the very least, forgive himself. They were still trying, so maybe he still had a chance to redeem himself. Maybe he could still try.

He just had to make it a point not to let those pubescent morons know. Hell would be long frozen over before he allowed that idiot Leonhart or anyone of his crew to know about his desire to redeem himself.

Even Rinoa?

Yeah, even Rinoa. She had already rejected him. She had already told him that he had lost her. So forget about her. He wasn't doing this for that spoiled princess in the first place. Hell, he couldn't remember ever doing anything for other people anyway. So what made Rinoa so friggin' different?

_You know the answer to that question, you blowhole._

Seifer shook his head. He had to get this thing off his mind somehow. He had to get her off his system. He was still himself after all. The high and mighty Almasy. He shouldn't have been absorbing grief any more than dishing them out. If someone was going to be at the receiving end of somebody else's actions, he would not be that someone. Let another mook take the grief on his account. Business as usual. Rinoa or no Rinoa.

_To hell with this!_ Seifer opted to rise up from the kiddie bed after the long hours of trying in vain to fall asleep. It was almost morning anyway, he told himself while noting the reddening eastern sky. It had been an unusually warm season, so much that he had found it more comfortable to go shirtless even at this time of the morning when normally the cool southeastern Centra temperature dipped to as low as twenty.

He was just about to walk towards the door when he heard subtle creaking sounds coming from the front entrance. There was no wind blowing, so that could only mean one thing. But who would be stupid enough to invade his privacy, at a desolate place like this?

Hyperion in hand, Seifer slowly walked out of the bedroom, remaining close to the wall to avoid being detected by whoever it was that went through the front door. As he neared a corner, his head darted out and in again, affording him a split second view of the ruined receiving room of the orphanage. The picture registered in his memory a picosecond later, showing that the door was indeed open. Someone must have wanted so badly to have his throat slit, sneaking at him like that.

Slowly striding towards the path that led to the beach, Seifer finally spotted a shadow being cast against the rising sun. He could easily judge from the form of the shadow that the intruder was looking towards the sea. Must have been admiring the view. Good. It would be child's play for him to sneak up from behind.

But before he could do so, Seifer immediately recognized the blue blouse and silver hair.

"Fujin?"

She was uncharacteristically startled, abruptly turning around to Seifer who had lowered the Hyperion to his side.

"What are you doing here?"

Again, another uncharacteristic gesture was seen from Fujin as she put an index finger to her lips, seemingly ashamed of her presence. Seifer was mildly amused by her atypical childish demeanor.

"Were you looking for me? How'd you know to find me here?"

"GUESS," she briefly said. Her bashful appearance finally made him smile.

"Will you cut it out with the shy girl routine. It doesn't look good on you."

Fujin looked as though she had just been enlightened, promptly straightening her posture to assume that ever-combative stance. Seifer smirked again.

"There, that's more like it. So… what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay in Garden and keep an eye on Rinoa."

There was an almost anxious look in her face as Fujin nodded repeatedly in saying that she had been doing what he told her. But the subsequent softening of her appearance made for a stark contrast from her perennially smug mood. Fujin appeared as though she didn't know what to say, not that she had much to say in the first place. Fujin had always been a woman of very few words. Quite literally. Maybe she was trying to think of a one-word explanation for her arrival.

"Uh… UNCERTAIN."

"Uncertain of what?" Seifer asked. "Of why you came here?" Fujin shook her head, and then waved her hands rapidly as though telling him to forget about it. "Uh-uh, you're not getting off that easily. Come on, talk to me."

"MARKKON," she said, striking her chest in the process. "RAGE."

"That old issue again, huh," Hhe said before squaring his stance in front of`her. "Look. Just because I'm cut off from civilization doesn't mean that I'm totally unaware of what's happening outside. I know Garden's taking flak more than ever because of that bastard. But I also know you're just spilling all bullshit so why don't you just cut the crap and tell me the truth."

Again, that bashful face shone from Fujin, her milky complexion flashing telltale shades of red. Was she blushing? Seifer was surprised to see her like this. As far as he can remember, this one half of his Posse had always thought that she was above mundane things that would otherwise have made an ordinary girl fold up in embarrassment. In spite of her speech impediment, Fujin had more self-esteem than the average Garden student, thanks in no small way to her having been friends with the king of confidence himself. Hanging around had always resulted in a rubbing off of the most distinct characteristics between people. Only Raijin seemed to have been the exception to this rule.

"HA-HA-HA-HA!!! Who'd have thought I'd see the day?" Seifer guffawed, eliciting a pout from the posse. If he had been predisposed to exaggerations, Seifer would have said something like 'this has got to be the mother of all firsts'. He had seen a lot of firsts in his life. First love, first kiss, first battle, first kill… but seeing Fujin blush for the first time was something he was totally unprepared for. And Seifer just couldn't avoid it.

Fujin turned around, having just been subjected to more embarrassment. Maybe she shouldn't have come here, she consequently thought.

"All right, I'm sorry," Seifer said. "That was a little too inappropriate. But you just gotta give me this moment, Fujin. Whatever happened that made you act that way?"

A small spark suddenly ignited in her mind. Seifer? Apologizing? Fujin didn't know how to react. One of the main reasons she idolized Seifer was his enormous hubris that didn't allow him to offer so much as a groan of regret for offending or even embarrassing anyone. And even though they were the closest to him, the Posse had never been an exception. On one hand, Fujin didn't know if she should feel turned off. Was Seifer's confidence starting to cave in?

On the other hand, something about the fact that he apologized to her made her feel elated. She'd bet he never stooped this low for Rinoa.

But who was she trying to fool? Seifer, regarding her more deeply than he did Rinoa?

This was becoming awkward, she thought. It was time to change the subject.

"HOME. WHEN?"

"I don't know…" Seifer's voice toned down. "I did tell you about this thing I need to do, right?"

"FOUND SELF?"

"I'm not so sure about that. In fact, I'm not so sure about anything anymore." He pondered, likewise turning towards the ocean. "I know there's something I need to settle about myself, and I can't do it when I'm surrounded by jerks and wusses. It's just a little surprising that I had to end up here of all places. This is where we grew up."

"'WE'?"

"Haven't I told you about that?"

"NEGATIVE."

Seifer felt a bit ashamed upon realizing that he neglected sharing a piece of supposedly vital information about himself with his best friend. He wondered if he had been preoccupied so much with his selfish pursuits that he had completely missed the little things that he should be enjoying with those who cared about him.

He scoffed inwardly_. Hmph. Story of my life._ What else could it have been?

"It's all about this Fated Children crap as the media tagged them after they beat Ultimecia. About how we all grew up here and then forgot about the whole thing because of our GF usage. You know how the media devours dramatic stories like this. Little kids lived together, got separated, and reunited again just in time to save the universe. Makes for a good Sunday paper reading. And since I'm part of the original 'orphanage gang', I was taken along for the ride. They just didn't paint me in the same heroic light as those dorks because… well, you know. There's at least one rotten apple in every basket…"

Seifer fell silent, and Fujin knew exactly where his train of thoughts was leading him. Slightly concerned, she tried to think of a way to proverbially throw the lever to make the train switch tracks.

"COINCIDENCE. AMAZING."

"If you think of it that way, then you're way off the mark. The Headmaster and Matron had everything planned, I suppose, which was how we ended up where we all were right during the second Sorceress War. And the rest was history; everything fell together when we all started remembering things."

"SURPRISED."

"That makes one of us. I didn't use GFs as much as they did so I remembered a little more and recalled everything a little earlier. So it didn't surprise me that much when everything came back to me. Thanks to that bitch Ultimecia."

"SO," Fujin came back, the flat tone of her voice indicating that she was dismissing the subject again. "HOME?"

Seifer shook his head. "No, I don't know when I can come back. Like I told you, there's something very important that I need to settle for myself. And there's something I need to complete real soon. "

"INFORM ME?"

"'Fraid not. It's one of those 'I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you' things. Highly classified, if you know what I mean."

Fujin grew silent. She had been accustomed to Seifer telling her everything. This moment caught her off guard. He may have had good reason for keeping this from her, but it still wasn't pleasant. Especially in light of what she had lately been feeling, the realization helped in no small way by his absence.

Seifer must have noticed her reaction. "Someday, I'm sure this thing will ram through everyone's expectations like a bat out of hell. You know how I always like to think big, right?" Fujin nodded, seemingly delighted with what she was hearing.

But the look of fondness in her face melted as Seifer went on. "But to tell you the truth, I really don't know what this is really about and why I have to do this. More importantly, why me?" His face showed deep contemplation, as if he was truly searching for an answer. "But of course, that doesn't mean I don't have to do it with my own brand of workmanship if you know what I mean."

She must have known what he meant. "OVER THE TOP?" Seifer scoffed at that rare, three-word reply.

"You have no idea," he said. Seifer then looked at Fujin meaningfully. There was that pompous smirk again that she had always loved to see from him. She couldn't avoid smiling herself.

"Fujin," he gently said, "do you know that you'd look a lot cuter if you put some more _oomph!_ in that smile of yours?"

Seifer looked at Fujin for a long time, noting the awkward expression on her face. And for the second time, she blushed.

"G-GARDEN. GO BACK," she stuttered while pointing at herself.

"Yeah, you do that," Seifer said, still smiling confidently. "I have to get back to work."

----------

Quistis couldn't remember the last time she felt that scatterbrained. She recalled being beset by a certain degree of giddiness back when she was fourteen and the instructor she had a crush on invited her to lunch. But that was the excited type of giddiness. This one was the anxious type, and she had been feeling it ever since Marcus bid goodbye a couple of days ago. Since then, she had been making sure that she wasn't slicing onions or something like that whenever the time of the day most likely for visitors to drop by would come.

And she had a damn good reason for that. It was a good thing she decided to pass on the garden salad and instead went for a ready-open can of peaches. It would have been disastrous if she were holding a knife when Squall knocked on her door.

The term 'speechless' took on an entirely new meaning when the former deputy faced her commander by the doorstep. Quistis felt her tongue suddenly roll back like a pull-down window shade, at the same time that her skin felt cold bites she usually only felt whenever someone attacked her with a Blizzara spell.

Squall, on the other hand, had forgotten that he still had a physical body. His entire being numbed when he looked down to her belly.

That was half an hour ago. She had invited him inside, and he had obliged. But not a word was spoken since the initial gasps that went out when Squall and Quistis first saw each other after six months.

She looked at him from behind the proverbial safety of the bar counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room. He looked so rattled and confused while seated by the dining table, his face tilted down and his left hand clutching his forehead. The classic Squall beleaguered pose, she thought. Quistis had been wondering what was running in his mind.

But not really. She had a rough idea of what he was pondering about. The real question was how he was going about it. Would he suddenly draw his gunblade and pounce on her? Would that bar counter offer enough protection? Quistis suddenly wished she had retained Shiva at least in spite of the SeeD service waiver she signed four years ago, that demanded all Guardian Forces registered to the Psion Matrix network as well as those acquired by sanctioned personnel in the line of duty are exclusive properties of Balamb Garden.

The first words that Squall finally uttered came out like a sudden killer hurricane over a drought-afflicted country. Quistis didn't know if she'd welcome it or not.

"Why did you lie to me?"

Quistis was at a loss for words. How was she expected to answer that question? Would a reasoning based on altruistic motives be sufficient to make up for the fact that she had denied the one person who stood to lose the most the chance to take contingency measures had he been allowed to know what he rightfully needed to know?

"I… I thought you didn't need to know… I thought that if I led you to believe that you had no responsibility to me, then everything would be all right. No one needs to know, and I'm fine with that. I'm fine with carrying this burden on my own. That's how I thought it has to be."

Squall heaved a deep breath to try and quell the burgeoning anxiety in him. "You know that's not how it works. My god, Quistis, you're pregnant. And I'm… I'm…"

_You're the father of my child…_ Quistis wanted to say. Six months ago, the mere thought would have made her heart leap in happiness, no matter what kind of circumstances surrounded it. But that wasn't the case now. Not merely because she was no longer enslaved by the love she used to regard Squall, having fully given it to someone else. But more so because she knew he thought of it as nothing else but a nightmare.

"Squall… no one has to know. That's why I left Garden without saying a word. That's why I chose to keep you in the dark. You don't need to worry about this anymore than you should if it didn't happen. You don't need to…"

"Friggin' hell! Listen to yourself, Quistis!"

She backed off, startled by his sudden outburst.

"Listen to what you're saying! Do you expect me to believe all this bullshit of your willing to shoulder everything on my account? Don't you even want me to at least recognize that child?"

"Why? Would you have wanted to?"

He almost said Yes. But it took a mere fraction of a second for Squall to realize that saying so would have been hypocritical at the least, and in its most likely form a rock to hit his own head with. Why would he do something that will most likely result in his losing Rinoa?

"My point exactly…" Quistis trailed off, interpreting his silence. "Squall, you'd never offer yourself to this child because of Rinoa. I know how much you love her. I've seen it with my own eyes," she said, almost envyingly. "I've seen you heedlessly step out in empty space and travel through time just to protect that love. And I know you'd never allow the fruit of a mere mistake to get in the way of that love."

Again, Squall silently fell back to the chair beside the dining table, his face buried in his arms in confusion. A cacophony of conflicting prospects was racing in his mind from all directions, clashing, colliding, threatening to overwhelm and tear it apart. How was he supposed to deal with it? Never mind the call for accountability that dictated he should at least touch the baby's hand as soon as she emerged into this world. Accountability was the least of his concerns, and neither was Quistis' pitiful prospect of raising a child whose father never loved her mother.

What would he do if Rinoa found out?

He tried to look for answers, but all his questions gravitated to the fact that he was in this predicament because he allowed it to happen. He got himself drunk so badly as to erode his sensitivity and judgment while entering a posh hotel room with a woman who practically every man and his father desired. What man wouldn't burn if he willfully immersed himself in flames?

Fierce anger started to rage in his heart. Squall started to hate himself for what he allowed to happen. He tried to contain it, but the hate was so strong it didn't settle to the superficiality of turning its head to the one that spawned it. His anger started to seek other targets.

"So tell me, did it solve the problem?"

"What?" Quistis returned, surprised by his sudden question. "What do you…"

"Your departure from Garden. Did it solve the problem?"

Quistis didn't know what Squall was trying to drive at with that question. But she felt she had to answer it. She thought she at least owed it to him for her lies. "For… a time it did," she answered, her voice faltering with uncertainty. "But maybe not. Maybe I've been too naïve to think that this is something that'll go away with me."

"So, bottom line is, it didn't. Even after you packed your bags and left without saying a word, the shit still had its way of hitting the fan. You only delayed the inevitable, right?"

No words came out of her mouth as Quistis was besieged by the guilt.

"After Marcus, who knows who's next? Tom? Nida? Daryll? Selphie? How long do you think it would take to find its way to Rinoa? And when that happens, what then?"

"I… I don't know…" Quistis stuttered, biting her lips. "But I didn't mean any harm when I kept it a secret. I was… I was desperate. I don't know how you or Rinoa will take it. I don't know if I have the strength to face her with this…"

"So your best bet was to run away? Didn't you even think that I might have done something about it if you'd told me? That I might have thought of a way to nip this in the bud?"

"Nip it in the bud? How? By killing me?"

"Cut the crap, Quistis! You know that's not what I'm talking about!"

"Then what? Get me to have an abortion? You know exactly how I feel about that, Squall. I'd never do it." Her voice was vehement. "That's why I just chose to leave. I thought that if I disappeared, things would be okay for you and Rinoa because what you both don't know won't hurt you."

"But it didn't turn out that way, Quistis! Rule of fate! No secret remains hidden forever! I can't believe that even you could be so naïve and dumb as to actually believe you can keep it away forever!"

"Don't shout at me! I did all that for you! I left Garden because I don't want you to get hurt! Can't you at least appreciate that?!?"

"What's to appreciate?!? THE SECRET IS OUT! YOUR PLAN DIDN'T WORK, DAMMIT!!!"

"WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE WANTED ME TO DO? CALL A PRESS CONFERENCE?!?"

Loud clattering sounds reverberated as Squall flung his arms against the cooking pans hanging under the cupboard. More of Quistis' kitchen utensils would have flown out the window if he hadn't restrained his temper. But the angst still boiled inside him like lava in the crater of an active volcano. Squall had to let go of this pent up rage, but he knew of no way to do it. It was aggravated by the realization that whatever Quistis did wouldn't have averted the imminent crisis. His thoughts subsequently fell back to the truth that it was his fault.

No. It always took two to tango. It was THEIR fault.

And Quistis just had to make the mistake of affirming it.

"I suppose we couldn't do anything now but to face up to it. There's nothing we'd have done or could do to reverse what we allowed to happen, Squall. Nothing."

"Hey, not so fast, Quistis," he snapped back. "I may not remember much but I know I was dead drunk during that night. Where does the 'we' fit in here?"

Quistis' brows met in the midst of her tears. "What… What do you mean by that?"

"You're not exactly my first one-night stand…"

"What?" she shot back. Despite her distraught feeling, Quistis felt insulted by his remark. "And neither are you my first. So your point is…?"

"My point is you're not the only one who knows the ropes. The only question is why do you have to choose me of all people? You know how much I love Rinoa. Why couldn't you have picked Marcus or Irvine or Casum? Why me?"

"Wha… you're thinking that I planned the whole thing?"

"And you want me to think that it's just coincidence that you only happened to be coming back from Dollet at the same time I drank myself nearly to death? How many times does Garden send consultants to Dollet compared to my getting drunk, which is to say only TWICE in my lifetime!"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Quistis knew that Squall had many bad points, but being a blame-thrower wasn't one of them. Sure, it was common knowledge that she used to harbor deep-seated feelings for him. And even the fact that she had already married someone else may not have been enough to dispel that well-known belief, considering that she had kept her marriage a secret from nearly everyone. But Squall should have known her better than that. He should have known that she would never have stooped so low just to get a one-night reprieve from nearly a lifetime of struggling against unrequited love.

Bitter as she felt, Quistis still tried to excuse Squall's aberrant behavior by insisting that he was simply terrified by the prospect of Rinoa discovering everything. But the same emotional pressure was also bombarding her. And her nine-month old condition wasn't exactly helping to preserve her better judgment.

"Squall… you really don't wanna go there."

"I just don't believe in coincidences, Quistis."

The instructor's face suddenly turned red.

"Son of a bitch…" she hissed bitterly. No matter how tolerant Quistis was, there was only so much her patience could take. That last remark was way below the belt.

In the back of his mind, Squall knew he should step on the brakes now before he bellowed something worse. But he was just too mad to stop himself, even though he knew he was already hitting way below the belt. It was like he was actually enjoying this in an arcane way… like it was his way of punishing her for her part in this tragedy.

And he knew exactly where and how to strike.

"You really should have tried to get over your stupid crush on me a long time ago."

Quistis felt a bomb detonate inside her head.

"Squall… Get. Out. Of. My. HOUSE!"

Those battering words rammed into his ears, startling Squall back to his senses. "What…?" he stuttered, as though waking from a nightmare, wondering whatever came over him for displaying such a crass behavior. "Quisty… I… I didn't…"

"NO!!!" she exclaimed, and then ran for the bedroom. Now fully realizing his mistake, Squall tried to run after the crying Quistis. But instead of his offended friend, he met the rough contour of a bedroom door violently slamming shut in his face.

_DAMN!!! _

----------

Zell didn't know whether to smile or not. He had spent nearly an hour in solitude inside the stately mini-library maintained meticulously by Martha Deen-Stuart, wealthy owner of a chain of popular boutique shops and caring aunt of his girlfriend, Iris. Deciding that a stretch that long in total darkness wasn't doing much to alleviate his worrisome state, the SeeD decided to go for the light switch, consequently making visible the long row of books lining the rich walnut shelves along three of its four walls. Zell's eyes immediately fixed on one particular book lying on top of the study table at the far corner of the library.

He didn't have any difficulty in making out the title. 'Good-bye, Pururun'.

_So that's why I can't find it anywhere in Garden._ His lips slowly formed a quaint smile. Striding leisurely, his gloved left hand picked up the book, then let its pages split at a point somewhere in the middle to reveal a tightly pressed note. Carefully, Zell unfolded the inconspicuous piece of paper. It read

"Iris, I know you're just holding on to this book to make Zell come back to the library over and over again. Well girl, I gotta admit, that's a neat ploy. It would certainly work on me if someone tried it ^_^. But I just wanna tell you that the head librarian is making a lot of noise about doing another inventory. Just an FYI, kiddo. Later ^_~………. Instructor Aki"

Zell tried to stifle a snicker, while admitting to himself that he had been had, in a manner of speaking. He recalled a time when he did repeatedly visit the library to ask Iris for that perennially indisposed book. The SeeD never did see even a shadow of the popular hardbound, but the frequency of his visits made possible the times when he and Iris became caught in casual yet absorbed small talk. The brief encounters soon grew longer with each visit, and in numerous occasions he'd forget about the book in favor of asking Iris to go snack with him in the cafeteria. Next thing they knew, they were on a date.

And one thing led to another.

A dark shadow of fear and doubt suddenly fell on the SeeD, remembering why he had to come hastily to Iris' aunt's house. He arrived a day before in the midst of sad faces and even sadder stories. Aunt Martha, as he fondly called his girlfriend's surrogate mother, met him right by the doorstep and didn't even give him a chance to sit down as she related the findings of the physicians who had been treating Iris.

_"They said it's only the flu, but her body's natural defenses can't seem to kick in. It's almost as if they've all just shut down or something. And…"_

Zell closed his eyes tight. Shiny beads started to well up as he furthered his recollection.

_"Iris has fallen into a coma…"_

He wanted to blame himself. More than a week ago Iris had been complaining about dull stomach pains, which prompted him to suggest that she skip the last SeeD exam in the offshore research station known as Battleship Island. Iris insisted that she was well enough to go through with it. And now Zell was cursing at himself for not insisting otherwise. He thought things wouldn't have come this far if he did.

But he knew that the guilt had a far deeper reaching cause. He knew that he had not been paying much attention to Iris as before. And he was well aware of the reason. But as he thought about it… about the other one… Zell couldn't avoid feeling stupid. Only a few days ago before Iris filed her leave of absence, he was thinking that maybe a few days without her would do him good. The reason, though, was a conflict for him. Zell wanted to insist that maybe if she stayed away, he'd miss her enough to make him realize that he still cared for her as much as he did before Selphie came into the picture. A dulling white sometimes grew brighter when a little black paint was added, he had told himself then.

Or maybe he was just fooling himself. In the back of his mind, an absent Iris meant an array of opportunities. Memories of that day when Iris and Xu went to Dollet for the yearly consultation assignment came back to him. It opened a lot of doors for him and Selphie… doors that led all the way to what they had fondly called as the next level, crossing the line. If such a line had been tangible it would have been shredded a thousand times over for the countless times they crossed it.

Author's Note: _**Tour De Force**_

It seemed so exciting then, until they both realized they weren't ready to hurt the people who loved them. So they decided to end everything and stay away from each other. It was just unfortunate that the call of the forbidden had always been more powerful. The more they tried to stay away, the more they ached for each other.

Zell and Selphie crossed the line again just a few days ago. They felt happy once again, like they did six months ago. Then they felt the conflict once more, and babbled for the umpteenth time about how they were not ready to inflict pain on those to whom their hearts legitimately belonged. Both had thought they were so stupid they were bound to kill themselves with their stupidity.

Then THIS had to happen. And Zell now realized his stupidity was about to kill Iris.

"Squall, you jerk…" he mumbled. A grossly misplaced comment that wasn't really aimed at his comrade, but rather a baseless penchant for blaming Squall for not warning him about _the catch._ Two years ago, Squall tried so hard to spurn Rinoa's advances, and he almost succeeded. But when Rinoa went into a possession-induced coma, it became his turn to wallow over the fear of losing her. The turnaround was so abrupt it was almost unbelievable. But somebody did say that you'll never know how much a person meant to you until she was gone.

And now the same thing was about to happen to him. Merely a few days ago, he was fighting against the urge to hope that he'd somehow be rid of Iris. Now that the prospect was glaring him at the face, he was petrified with fear. Why did it have to take this crisis for him to realize he didn't want to lose her?

"You're still blaming yourself for what happened."

The beleaguered SeeD turned to the source of the voice. Behind him, Aunt Martha stood smiling, though the melancholy in her face cannot be denied.

"You're a SeeD, Zell. You're not an oracle. You can't possibly have known all these will happen."

"Yeah… I'm a SeeD…" Zell stared at his Ehrgeiz-clad fists. "I… I have these special abilities. I can beat the shit out of a dozen rampaging Grendels. So… how do you think I'd feel right now knowing that I can't even save Iris?"

He was trying to cloud the truth. He couldn't possibly let her know that there was more to his guilt than met the eye. Thinking that it was a simple case of self-reprisal, Aunt Martha's face assumed a sterner expression.

"Young man, will you stop that whining? Iris is still alive. Don't you dare speak as if she's already left us."

Zell's already ashen face paled even more. He couldn't believe the words that went out of his mouth or the thoughts that held his mind captive in a state of hopeless surrender. Aunt Martha was correct; they simply can't just give up on Iris. If there was one thing that the brash mercenary learned from all the battles that he fought, was that in every apparently grim predicament, there was always a way out.

He somberly looked at the benevolent woman with repentant eyes. Despite the hidden guilt, he couldn't deny feeling comforted by her counsel.

"Aunt Martha, I… I'm sorry. I'm just so…" Zell was no longer able to continue with what he was about to say due to the heaviness in his heart. Martha's face softened, after which she pulled the young warrior toward her and let his face rest on her shoulders.

"Hush, young lad. I know…" she muttered, her voice assuming a mellower tone. "You're worried about her. We all are. But fear not, we'll find a way to help her."

A couple of moments elapsed before Zell gently pushed himself away from Martha. He then slowly walked to the phone on the study table.

"I'm going to call the Headmaster and ask for a longer time off. I… want to stay with Iris until she gets well."

"You do that," she replied, somewhat pleased that the SeeD seemed to have gained a more positive outlook. Martha then turned and made her exit, closing the door behind her and leaving Zell again with nothing to keep him company but his messed up thoughts.

What should he tell the Headmaster? Should he let him know that Iris had become so sick that she was now in a coma? How would Cid take such a development?

Zell's confused mind inadvertently focused on Iris' condition. He couldn't help pondering about the abruptness of the whole thing, and how the situation had turned this bad all of the sudden. How could Iris have fallen into such a serious condition without anyone of them seeing any signs? And how come the doctors couldn't figure out the cause of her sickness? What was that about her immune systems failing?

In that worried state, the next thing Zell knew, he was already standing by Iris' bedside, staring at her with much regret in his heart. Her face may have looked peaceful in her unconsciousness, but the purplish color of her skin showed a lot to be alarmed about. And despite how others saw him as a nut for physicality, Zell was actually an intellectual in his own right. He was probably one of the most insufferable bookworms in the world of martial arts, and he seldom let a book go unread if it attracted his interest. Squall himself had tagged him as 'Mr. Know-It-All-Zell' because of his knowledge in a wide array of subjects.

One of the areas he had the fascination for reading was pathology – the specialized study of diseases. One of the reasons why he was previously hanging around the library was he was looking for some reference material on illnesses that could induce purpling of the skin, catalepsy, and immune deficiency. He had run across a few entries that would have been suspect if he didn't know Iris well, but Zell immediately dismissed them all because of their venereal nature. And he was sure that Iris would never have succumbed to anything like that.

He then thought about the possibility of a biological attack against Garden. But who would do such a thing? Of course, Garden had made some enemies through the course of its controversial existence. But germ tactics had long been made obsolete by great advances in modern medicine. There was not a sickness in the world today that didn't have a cure.

But that was only true for microorganism-induced diseases. A few serious afflictions had not been conquered yet. Like cancer, which was still considered a puzzle for today's modern medicine, and so were its few variants like neuroblastoma. But since they were more chemical than biological in nature, such illnesses had never been employed in biological warfare. It would be much easier to synthesize man-made viruses than to externally introduce agents designed to hyper-oxidize cells to mutate them into something malignant.

Wait a minute. Man-made viruses?

What if some clandestine and powerful organization had succeeded in synthesizing new strains of viruses? Or new viruses altogether? And if so, who could possibly have this level of technology and expertise?

_Can it, Zell! _he hollered at himself, realizing that he was mind-babbling. It just didn't look likely that anyone would resort to biological warfare. And if it were true, why target only Iris? Why hadn't anyone else in Garden been afflicted by the same condition? Had she made a serious enemy somehow? Then who?

Selphie?

_Friggin' hell…! _What was he thinking? Selphie would never do something like that!

Zell just had to come to a thought that he was clutching at straws. None of the theories he considered sounded right. In fact, it all sounded idiotic.

But still, he was far away from figuring out what brought this to his girlfriend. Zell hated feeling helpless, but he just couldn't think of any other possibility nor could he do something to help her get well.

Actually, he had considered one. But he would have to be the most superstitious person in the world to even make a fleeting thought that what was happening to Iris was destiny's way of showing him what he had been doing wrong. Was it possible that some invisible god was doing this to her to make him realize what he stood to lose? Was Iris paying for the mistakes he committed? And if he finally decided to stop cheating on Iris, would that help her get well?

_Great going, you numskull!_ he cussed at himself. Not only was he becoming superstitious, he was also turning into a prosaic puddle of paranoia.

Or maybe it was just the guilt from his betrayal of her trust…

_Iris…_ He knelt down and tenderly ran his hand over her hair. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…_

Zell was startled when the phone beside Iris' bed suddenly started ringing. He dallied for a few moments to let someone else answer the call from an extension line. But then he remembered that the phone in Iris' room had its own direct line. He hesitated for a moment, and then proceeded to pick it up.

"Stuart residence."

"_I take it you're in her room right now," _a masked voice echoed from the earpiece.

"Who is this?" a surprised Zell shot back. But he didn't hear anything other than contemptuous laughter. "Answer me!"

The muffled chortle continued, and then was followed by another pronouncement_. "If you're trying to figure out how to cure your pitiful hussy, don't waste your energy. There is no cure for what she has."_

"The hell there isn't!" he spat back, growing furious and frazzled at the same time. "And you better tell me who you are or I swear I'll hunt you down and make you eat your phone!"

The strange voice's rejoinder only heightened his anger.

"_You're welcome to try, young lad. Oh you are so welcome to try!"_

**End Of Chapter 11**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

His hands were unusually fidgety, which was quite uncharacteristic considering what he was known for around Garden. Notwithstanding his poor academic showings, Arturo Hagel was one of those gifted with an uncanny mastery of the guitar. Often seen in the quad plucking away to what had fondly been called 'Breezy' because everyone thought it was the perfect tune to drift with Balamb's gentle winds, the C student would rather while the day away with his acoustic 6-string rather than spend it inside the classroom with classmates that don't think of him much as a student as he was a musician, and an instructor who at the end of the term would most probably give him another marginally passing grade despite his best efforts.

Arturo had often asked himself this question. If he weren't so keen in his studies, why bother staying in Garden? Why did he bother to enter it anyway? He could hardly remember the answer to his second question, but it probably had something to do with a wish his mother left him before she moved out of Balamb. As for the second question, well… the answer was, to his delight, sitting right in front of him.

The same answer also accounted for his unusually fidgety hands. Shyly, Arturo looked across the table, hardly enduring the thrill of staring into the most beautiful pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen. Selphie was busily dealing with her Caesar's salad that she hardly noticed him ogling at her. But when she did, her moist lips formed a somewhat uncomfortable smile.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Uh…" he fumbled. "Um… ah… nothing. I… I was wondering if that ranch dressing is non-fat."

Selphie almost burst out laughing. She had never heard a catch line as pathetic as that. But in a way, she also thought it was cute. Having been used to the overly suave and smooth style that her beau, Irvine Kinneas, often radiated, Arturo's glaringly timid and spectacularly klutzy ways was akin to a breath of fresh air for her. Selphie thought it was nice to be with someone who had a penchant to trip on his own feet once in a while. Was that the reason why she obliged to this lunch invite after the too many times that Arturo attempted to ask her out? She didn't exactly know. Or maybe she did, she just didn't want to think about it.

"Actually, no," she obliged. "Not that it matters, you know. With all the things SeeDs do every day, we can afford to eat whatever we want and still not worry about gaining weight."

"I can imagine…" Arturo trailed, looking forlorn. Selphie held a hand against her mouth, feeling sorry for what she had just said. She was quite familiar about his reputation of failing the most SeeD exams in Garden history, something that must have rendered him sensitive to conversation topics about SeeD. Selphie didn't want to rub it any harder than she already had.

Arturo noticed her reaction. "Nah, don't worry about it. I ain't all that touchy as I used to be after that last exam I flunked in Dollet," he said, smiling smugly.

Selphie felt her hair standing on ends. "What do you mean?" she asked, stepping on the brakes in time to keep the grisly details from spilling out. What Arturo mentioned was the exam where he committed a fatal mistake that resulted to the death of twelve hostages. The thought of twelve people electrocuted to a crisp was enough to give her goose bumps, and she expected Arturo to feel a hundred times worse. But he was smiling.

_Maybe he's just bottling it all in,_ Selphie subsequently thought, feeling more sorry for him as a result. She then felt a tinge of regret for all the times she had turned him down in the past. If anything, what Arturo needed right now was a friend he could talk to. And if there was anyone who fit that bill, it had to be her. Selphie could do no less, for as an orphan she herself had felt the pangs of loneliness of having no one else to talk to in her time of need. That was perhaps the reason why she had always been so warm and friendly to people. She firmly believed that no one had to go through life alone.

"So…" Arturo followed up. "What do you wanna do after this?"

"I don't know," she said with a warmer tone, hiding her mild surprise to the fact that Arturo seemed to have loosened up. "What do you have in mind?"

In the back of her mind, Selphie was thinking that maybe she shouldn't be doing this. Being accommodating to a guy who clearly had a crush on her could be misconstrued as a futile lead on. But Selphie quickly dumped the idea. Arturo deserved a break, and she can explain this to Irvine later on if she needed to. Not that she ever needed to explain herself to him whenever she spent time with other guys (which accounted for why she and Zell had been getting away with impunity). Maybe she'd just tell him that she liked Arturo's fashion sense. The coat, which had the same color as Irvine's, was definitely a touch of class. The headband was a bit grungy, though.

Shallow as hell and flimsy as any sorry excuse can get. But that was, of course, not meant to be serious.

Should she also explain to Zell?

Why in bloody hell should she?

Selphie sighed. She was more confused than a T-Rexaur chasing its own tail. Maybe she was the one who needed a break.

"I have some new songs I want to try out. But the chords are a bit confusing. I thought maybe you could help me out."

Selphie smiled. Nothing could be more unbelievable than Arturo being challenged by guitar chords. But at least he was starting to be creative.

"You're on."

----------

Metal couplings held his arms and legs against a contraption that looked like a bed constructed with similar material, only it was inclined at a near-vertical position probably to give free visual access to whoever was lurking behind that mirror before him. He couldn't see anything beyond it, with a mere reflection of his frail form bouncing back to his eyes from the mirror's surface. But he had been into too many of these rooms with a mirror mounted at one of its walls. It was one-way, of course. And behind it, in an adjacent room, stood his captor.

Claude glared at the glass portal with seething eyes. If looks could burn, that mirror would have already been reduced to silicon sludge.

On one hand, he had every right to be furious. No one had any right to rob him of his freedom. Prisoners normally became such because they had done something that called for punishment in the form of incarceration. They had to be taken away from the public scene not only to rehabilitate them, but also to keep the threat they posed away from innocent folks. What could he have done to be given this treatment? He knew of no crime that could warrant this fate.

On the other hand, he actually had an inkling of what brought him this misfortune. But whatever that was happened a long time ago, when he was still young, strong and virile. It had been so long that he could no longer recall the details.

Unfortunately, he could recall enough of the essential things. There was a mistake committed in the past, something that he wished years later that he shouldn't even have conceptualized to start with. Claude had hoped that he wouldn't have to be reminded of it, but past ghosts sometimes had the ability to travel through time and torment their conjurers in the present. Now, his past had begun to haunt him, and in more ways than a simple storm in his conscience. Clearly, certain people were now interested in knowing the details of what he had gone through many decades ago. Clearly, certain people wanted power.

Right now, he was wondering whatever it was that pushed him into that decision. Many years ago, a group of scientists had requested for volunteers for an experiment that allegedly sought ways to safely augment human capabilities for combat. Being a warrior, he was one of those tapped to reconsider. Being a legendary warrior, he was one of those expected to flush all caution down the drain for the sake of acquiring more abilities to promote the greater good.

But Claude had never believed in such drivel. On the contrary, he had metamorphosed into a warrior of such renown because of his unreserved faith in the power of the human spirit. According to him, weapons could only be so effective, and that it amounted to nothing if the warrior's heart was not right, pure and bold. If they were so, a combatant would hardly need to employ weapons. That was the main reason why he was so feared in his time. Claude, the legendary warrior, was just as deadly barehanded as he was with a broad sword or a machine gun. Many had succumbed to the mastery of his hands in the art of combat. And many more had feared him because of that.

But very few knew his secret, which wasn't really much. He remembered one of them. His grandson. His beloved tyke who always scraped his knees running. Many times he had thought of seeing the young man, if only to tell him how proud he had made his grandpa. But as many times Claude abandoned the idea, wary of what his sudden appearance would cause.

And then there was the other one. Greta. Claude wondered what had become of her.

At least she wasn't sharing his predicament. At least she wasn't bound like this, helpless and seething with futility. And if his suspicion was correct, any time now someone will come through that steel door beside the mirror, bearing an instrument with the purpose of drawing out blood from him. It couldn't have been anything else. Whoever it was holding him captive could possibly want just one thing from him, and that was the fruit of the mistake he committed a long time ago.

Power. The one currency that bound ambitious conquerors and demented madmen. Power that could bring total peace to the world or bring it into ruins. And from the way he was bound, the one who did this couldn't possibly want peace. They want power to oppress. Power to wage war. Power to conquer.

And they will have that power. And in a way, it'll be his fault.

Claude continued to seethe. But that was all he could do.

For now…

----------

For four hours he had been sitting by the doorstep of that dainty log cabin. Four hours, and in all that time he couldn't find the courage to come back inside and apologize to her.

Squall winced. He didn't know what happened, he couldn't figure out what came over him and drove him to act that way. As he stared into the night with nothing but the stars and the moon illuminating its less than urban surroundings, the embattled SeeD commander's mind warred between two great conflicts. For one, he was still petrified by the events, by the consequences of that one night nine months ago when out of sheer, infantile frustration he drank himself nearly to death and was rendered unable to drive back home. For one, he still found it a little far-fetched that Quistis would coincidentally appear on that night of all nights from a consultation assignment in Dollet. For one, he was still half-convinced that it was all planned.

But the thoughts were also bringing him a heap of guilt. Yes, it may have been true that Quistis had been harboring deep-seated feelings for him for some time. But in the many years they worked together, never did she try anything to compel him to return those feelings. If he knew her well (and he did), he'd easily conclude that she would never stoop so low as to machinate events to make him hers by hook or by crook. Quistis, as everyone in Garden knew, was a woman of impeccable character and integrity. If anything, many loved her because of this.

And her near-flawless character was highlighted more by her inherent loyalty to her friends. And Quistis had never been a greater friend to anybody than she was with Rinoa. This alone would have prevented her from directing any malicious intent at forcing an issue she knew she could never sway to her favor. Quistis loved Rinoa too much to betray her. She would never do anything to hurt her friend.

But then, Quistis was only human.

But then, so was he.

So what was to say it was only Quistis who wanted that thing to happen that night? What was to say that he didn't also want it, whether drunk or not? What was to say that he didn't finally succumb to the goddess-like beauty so many men had long desired to possess?

He was only human.

Perhaps it was a terrible moment of weakness that made Quistis forget who she was. But it would be incredibly illogical to say that she was the only one suffering from a moment of weakness that night. Squall was out of his wits. And whether he admitted it or not, being intoxicated was more than enough to weather down the resistance he had built to prevent himself from being enamored by her beauty and character the way the other guys had. Whether he admitted it or not, there was no denying that he too was physically attracted to her. Well, who wouldn't? A priest, maybe. A dead priest.

He was only human.

And Squall realized that whatever happened that night was not a one-way thing. Nothing would have happened that he didn't want to happen. Whatever came down that night, both of them wanted it.

He had no right to rage at her the way he did a while back. They both wanted it to happen.

Now Squall didn't know how to say he was sorry. He had been hard on Quistis, too hard. She didn't deserve that kind of treatment from him.

"Quisty…" he muttered under his breath. "I'm… sorry…"

The doorstep he had been sitting on had grown warm, a far cry from the chilly touch that met him when he first sat on it four hours previous. Dollet usually got cold during this part of the year when high winds changed course from east to west, bringing frigid air from Trabia. Squall had been trying to endure the dropping temperature for quite some time now, and he had begun to deliberate whether to leave for the train station or come back inside the house. He was about to choose the first option when the door suddenly swung open.

"It's getting pretty nippy out here," Quistis said, holding the door open. "You should get inside."

Squall looked up momentarily. Quistis' face hardly assumed any emotion, but the eye bags were a dead giveaway to what she had been doing in her room. He felt even more guilty. But he wasn't about to freeze to death on account of his guilt. Squall pushed against the doorstep to propel himself up, and gingerly went inside the house. He heard a soft click as Quistis locked the door behind them.

Same ol' Quisty, he thought. Even after what he did, she still couldn't bear to leave him out in the cold.

Groping for something to break the ice between them, Squall fixed his attention to the picture frame standing beside the phone.

"So… is that Hunter?"

Quistis looked at the picture and allowed a mild smile. "Yeah. We had that taken in a studio in Dollet the day we got married, a few days after I resigned from Garden. Jo was actually quite frantic about it because he wanted our picture before I started gaining weight."

Quistis was talking about the weight gain typical to pregnancies. Squall tried to act nonchalantly, even though the thought of her pregnancy brought back the painful anxiety inside his chest.

"You didn't look like you put on much," he said, almost smiling. "You look just as pretty as before you left Garden."

"Now THAT is scary," she quipped. "Squall paying me a compliment. My oh my…"

Squall ignored the remark, and instead remembered the question he had been itching to ask.

"So, where is he?" he said, almost regretting it when Quistis' smile lost its color.

"Um… he's gone. He died about three months ago from neuroblastoma."

"Oh… I'm… I'm sorry to hear that."

Quistis nodded, trying to hold back her tears. "I've actually known about his sickness even before we got together. I was just hoping at least the bad day wouldn't come until after the two of us had a child of our own, and..."

"And so he wouldn't have to settle for that kid," Squall interrupted. Quistis tossed him a firm glance.

"Kayla. Her name will be Kayla," she said, her arms crossed before her. "And for your information, Jo had treated her as though she was his. He didn't care if you… if someone else fathered her. That's…"

"That's how much he loved you," Squall again interrupted. The stolid look on Quistis' face abruptly melted, as she was touched by the tenderness in Squall's voice. She was actually surprised, not expecting that despite having loved someone else, she still valued whatever tone of kindness she could squeeze out from him.

For so many years, Quistis had yearned for a measure of kindness from Squall. She had been longing for a moment when he'd treat her as something at least a little above a cafeteria table. He had, of course, been extremely professional at work, and she appreciated his respect for her as a colleague. But for two people who supposedly called each other friends, for two people who supposedly grew up together, they were just too distant. There had been improvements to their relationship ever since coming back from Trabia two years ago when they all remembered being together as kids, but his kindness had been more mechanical and ritual. For Quistis, it had never felt real.

That was until now. When Squall spoke, she could have sworn that he was actually happy for her. Perhaps it was because he was genuinely glad that she had found someone to love, or maybe just relieved that someone had finally gotten her off his case. In the end, she didn't care. Squall had finally become kind to her.

"Quisty…" he followed up. "I've screwed up big time, I know." Squall was stammering like a shy schoolboy before his instructor. Despite the discomfort, Quistis didn't try to stop him. "I know that I've been a major ass and a main factor in making your life miserable, and I didn't care that I hurt you more times than both you and I could count. But…"

He looked at her, repentance searing from his eyes. She just stared back at him.

"For the past years I've been acting like you're the bane of my existence. I was a fool. And I'm sorry." She held herself back, wary that she might welcome him too eagerly. "I'm sorry for causing you all this trouble. And I'm especially sorry that you have to go through this alone. I should have at least done my part…"

"I know you couldn't," she finally retorted. "But Squall, I'm fine with that. I could never force you into doing something that will compel you to compromise your love for Rinoa. When I allowed that night to happen, that was my choice. And when I left Garden without letting my beloved friends know where I went, that was also my choice. This condition…" her hands rested on her bulging stomach. "… you couldn't have done anything about it, you didn't even know. And that was also my choice. You didn't do anything to me that I didn't do to myself first."

Squall seemed agitated. "Quisty, why can't you be selfish and vindictive for even one damn second? I did this to you. Can't you at least tell me off or something?"

"I'd do that if you think it would make you feel less guilty," she said, smiling. "But… I'm just not built that way."

That was when it came to Squall. He could never have had a better friend. And he had been missing out on all of it all these years.

_Come here,_ Squall almost said as he was nearly overcome by the urge to pull Quistis close to him and hold her. But for some reason, he felt he can't do that. Not with this situation. Instead, Squall unleashed the first heartfelt compliment he had ever told Quistis in years.

"Hunter had to be the luckiest guy in the world."

Quistis' eyes almost welled out, but she tried to keep her emotions at bay. "Yes, and I also had to be the luckiest girl… for having felt his love even for only a short time. If you only had the chance to know him…"

"Yeah…"

Silence then fell over them, as they both became unsure of how to react next. The stillness was broken when Quistis remembered that all was not yet well. They still had Rinoa to worry about. She almost hated to ask, but someone had to address the situation.

"So, what do you have in mind? I mean… about Rinoa?"

He wished she didn't have to bring it up, but Squall knew that it was unavoidable. "I honestly don't know. If you're going to stay out of sight, maybe I can just act as though nothing happened. But…" he paused. Not again, he thought. Squall realized that he had already caused her much hurt. And even though Quistis seemed to insist on maintaining her disappearance, he just could no longer, in good conscience, tolerate that situation. It would only be tantamount to going back to square one.

The thought petrified him, but he knew that he had to face up to his responsibility.

"… Like I said, law of fate. All secrets are bound to blow sky high one way or another. Other people already know. And… I think things will be far worse if she learned about this from someone else."

"So what are you telling me? You're going to come clean with her?" she said uneasily. Squall wasn't the only one terrified by the prospect. Being Rinoa's best friend, Quistis was similarly frightened. She knew that he had a point, but she also didn't know what to do once Rinoa found out. That would certainly mean the end of their friendship.

Shaken by anxiety, Squall couldn't find the words to answer her question. He didn't have an answer to that. He can't bear the thought of losing Rinoa.

"I've got to go…" he trailed softly. "I have to figure out what to do."

"But Squall, it's already dark outside. And the train won't come until three tomorrow. I think it'd be better if you spend the night here."

"No," he answered firmly. "Should Rinoa find out, it'd only add insult to know that I spent the night here. At the least, I shouldn't give her a reason to believe that we've gone far beyond a single… night."

Once again, Quistis found herself at a loss for words. She hated it, but she knew Squall was right.

"I'm going back to Garden."

"Yeah… guess we don't have much choice," Quistis said as Squall began for the door. But before he walked out, Squall turned back to look at his friend.

"Thanks… for having me here."

She nodded, apprehension wreaking havoc inside her.

"And wish me luck," Squall added. Quistis just nodded at him with an exhausted smile as he walked out and closed the door behind him.

----------

He lay curled in the darkness, hollowed and emptied. He maintained his vigil even as day approached. The dawn's light turned the indigo sky to soft mauve as the moon began to retreat from view. Not even the beauty of the blushing could drive away the churning gloom that enveloped him. He felt as though his innards had been carved out and put on display. He felt bereft. The light, which had once sustained him, had drained away, leaving behind a void of despair that threatened to pull him in. Failure. He had failed. He felt worthless. Worse than useless, he had failed Siegfried.

As sunlight illuminated the ugly contours of Fisherman's Horizon, he crept into the shadows and hid there. He felt torment looking upon his friend's shattered shell, wishing with all his being that he could join his friend. He could not. Not now. He could only watch and wait. He saw the first of the technicians climb down the metal ladders and the metal chink of each footfall caused a stabbing in his heart.

The technician turned as she stepped off the ladder and discovered the horror that he himself had been forced to endure. Her jaws were agape like some strange deep-sea fish, opening and closing in breathless gasps for air. Her eyes were wide orbs as she stood there, her face frozen in a grotesque mask of horror, her limbs too shock-filled to move. Siegfried stared back in an unseeing gaze, looking up with eyes that could perceive nothing. She made a gurgling gasp and took one staggering step backwards, her breath coming faster and faster. The paralysis fled and she ran, shrieking in an incoherent stream of panic.

"Sieg! It's Sieg! Oh god, it's Sieg!" The mindless repetition echoed from wall to wall, resounding in the pipes, seeping into every crevasse. Every word was jagged glass tearing his heart just a little more. It made him yearn for relief, any relief. Anything that could make the pain go away, if only for a moment. Nonexistence seemed like a haven, one forever denied him.

The others came running and amid the panic and disarray, someone kept a level head and thought to call law enforcement. It was not long before the constable arrived with his people. They looked down at the body of Siegfried Waller, trying to keep the shock from their eyes. The cool professionalism of their actions was betrayed; he could see shaking hands and bitten lips. A clenched fist vowed revenge that he himself yearned for so desperately. Ugly, hideous yellow tape was pulled up around the scene as the men and women began scouring the place for evidence. They never once noticed him. He did not wish them to.

Crowds of the curious began to come, attracted like scavengers to the scent of death. He suppressed the urge to roar into their midst and drive them away because it would have served no purpose. Worse, it would have distracted from the all-important task of finding the one responsible for this heinous act. Oh, how he wanted to find the one responsible.

He listened as whispers drifted down to his hiding place. Speculation, gossip, rumor. It all flew about like blowflies, making him rumble in disgust. What sickened him most was the whispering that he heard, the hate that only ignorance could spawn.

"It was SeeD. He must have known something."

"Get real! Didn't he even date a SeeD once? They aren't like that."

"Oh? Maybe he knew something. Maybe Markkon is right about them. Had you thought of that?"

He hissed in anger and some of the people nearby looked up in sudden anxiety. Baffled as they looked around and saw nothing, they resumed their work. Sometimes he hated humanity as much as he loved it. He had no use for such foolishness. He wanted answers. He wanted solutions. He wanted revenge. He wanted to grieve.

He wished that he could but it was caught in his chest, trapped and unable to be freed. Like coal trapped in a chute, it was a lump so far down that it blocked up everything behind it. He could only watch in that state of unnatural calm as the zipper forever shut Siegfried away from the light. Huge, bloody, lantern eyes shone from all the people's faces but all he could do was become part of the shadows and watch. His curse, his bane. He'd failed the one who had trusted him to be a guardian, a protector. Now what would he do?

Even if he were to find the culprit, he was helpless to act. He was bound by traditions and laws far older than him. It was simply not in him to break those bonds. He had to find someone else who could act, someone who had not given the oaths that he had. He needed to find someone who would be his wings of vengeance, his sword of retribution. He required someone with the power to act. The murderer of his dear friend would be dealt with by one as closely bound to Siegfried as he had been.

He had to find Quistis Trepe. If for no other reason than that she had been Siegfried's beloved. SeeD would destroy this monster in man's form. Siegfried would be avenged. On Quistis, he had to hang all his hopes. Afterwards, he would have release. He would be able to mourn.

**End Of Chapter 12**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

So he wasn't so bad after all.

That must have been the thought running in Selphie's mind. She used to think of this as a big waste of time, helped in no small way by her friends who had said Arturo was a loser with no future in a military academy like Balamb Garden. Especially in Balamb Garden, where students that were hardly old enough to shave can take on a T-Rexaur one-on-one. In an institution where warriors were bred in a routine manner, someone like Arturo who seemed could only have been good in anything musical could not possibly cope. With his academic showing, one just had to wonder how he managed to pass the entrance exams in the first place.

She also didn't know, but in the same way, she didn't care. Or at least she had stopped caring. Amused just before because of his bashfulness, Selphie was delightfully surprised upon learning that Arturo had a lot more to say than what that silent and shy figure had suggested. But however pleasant his seemingly unfamiliar trait felt, something still didn't feel right. But nothing was so serious as to warrant real suspicion. It was almost like Arturo was merely shielding his positivity for reasons unknown, and decided to share it only with her. Which made sense in a way since Arturo did have a crush on Selphie. Unsure of how to take his shifting demeanor, Selphie simply dismissed the thought.

The more they talked about music and guitars, the more Selphie's opinion about Arturo changed. He was actually very good in what he did. Music may not have much place in a military school, or so a lot insisted. But as nimble fingers strummed on the elegant acoustic guitar, the Trabian lass found herself nearly mesmerized by the sheer sweetness of the melody. Arturo played the guitar so well it was almost sinful. Nobody could possibly be that good. But he was.

"Wow…" Selphie gushed, impressed. "You're really very good at this. I wish I could install you to my CD burner."

"Thanks." Arturo looked embarrassed. "But CD players are so stifling. Have you been in one?"

"Heh!" She laughed. "Nope, too dusty for me."

Maybe he _was_ just holding himself back, thought Selphie. His sense of humor appealed to her. She didn't even know he had it in him. What would the others say if they knew?

The pair struck a pleasant sight set against the backdrop of the quad stage, with Arturo instinctively humming a tune that his fingers made the guitar strings sing, while Selphie followed suit as closely as she can with a kinetically powered electric guitar. She remembered almost drooling when a music store in Balamb introduced the kinetic guitar, an electric variation that supposedly was supplied power by the vibrational kinetic energy of the strings as they were plucked. The instrument itself had fifty different distortion variations that can be tested via a retractable cord earphone from a slot at the back. And the power chord not only controlled the length of the note but also its vibrato rate, as determined by how fast the player repeatedly pressed the extended arm gently towards the guitar itself. No more need for that corn-inducing string pressing that neophytes always complained about.

Selphie was so proud of her kinetic guitar. How would she take it if she learned that it was Arturo Hagel himself who designed the instrument?

"Nice piece you got there, Sef. Real state of the art," he observed.

Selphie gave him her trademark tongue face. "Tee-hee! Bet you've always wanted one of these."

"Actually, I have five."

"Five… wow! Really? But… where'd you get the money to buy five of these?"

"Oh, here and there."

"Yeah, sure." She scoffed and dropped the question. "Which reminds me. I thought I was supposed to be the one to help you. It looks like you already know everything there is about this song. What do you need my help for?"

"Why?" He eyed her apprehensively. "You wanna leave? Like, am I boring you?"

"Oh no, no," selphie quickly shot back. "No, Arturo. Not at all. I'm actually having a great time learning all these cool songs."

"But…?"

"But…" She held herself back. What the hell was she thinking? Selphie was going to ask what exactly was Arturo's purpose in asking her here. But she had heard that question too many times from too many girls who could do nothing but put up with guys they'd rather see at the end of an Elnoyle's tail than across a dinner table from them. And she had always thought such behavior mean and rude. Selphie had never understood what pushed girls to be cruel just because they didn't like certain guys, and what kind of snob mentality made girls act as though guyhood owed them a big favor. And she didn't want to come across that way to Arturo. She wanted to be kind to him as much as she could.

"Must there always be a 'but'?" she instead replied.

"There's always a But. Come on, didn't you take Dramatic Conversations 101?" Selphie chuckled. "Whenever one says something that either appeals to you or comes like an incredibly good news, there's always a But. For example: Zell is a superb martial artist, BUT he jumps the gun too much. Edea is gorgeous BUT she's over forty. Instructor Trepe's almost perfect, BUT she's not here. You're really cute, BUT… uh…"

"Uh-huh…" Selphie gently goaded Arturo to continue. "… but what…?"

"Um… there's always an exception to the rule?"

_Okay, reeaall smooth. _ Selphie was almost flattered. She would have been fully self-aggrandized if she had been attracted to him to some extent. But flatteries normally fell on deaf ears if it came from a person who didn't particularly appeal to someone. Still, she appreciated his effort.

"You've always been cute like that," he suddenly blurted out. The statement brought Selphie's eyebrows together. It would have been nothing if he didn't speak with a tinge of nostalgia. As it was, she felt as though he was referring to a time fourteen years instead of four years ago. And they had known each other for only two years.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, you don't remember?"

Selphie looked perplexed, unsure whether it was another catch phrase or he was really serious. What was to remember?

"Um… no."

"Damn GFs…" Arturo muttered. "My chances wouldn't have been so bleak if it weren't for them. If I were Headmaster Cid I'd abolish the use of Guardian Forces. Memory loss is simply too great a price to pay."

"You are being direct, aren't you?" Selphie stated, looking directly at Arturo.

He looked back with a more intent gaze. "We really won't go anywhere by beating around the bush, would we?"

The way he stared directly into her eyes made Selphie feel uncomfortable. Earlier, she was all praises to what she had thought as the new Arturo while considering the possibility that someone must have given him a crash course in developing self-confidence. But the look in his eyes was too straightforward and almost overbearing, up to the point where it no longer felt like him at all. He really shouldn't be overdoing this, she thought. Selphie tried to change the subject by swinging it back to the original topic.

"Squall doesn't see it that way."

"About what? Use of GFs? Of course. Squall is Cid's lapdog."

"Hey!" Selphie blurted out, visibly incensed. "Why are you talking about Squall like that?"

"No no, don't get me wrong, Sefie. I'm just saying that here in Garden, things get done too mechanically because there's no voice of opposition whenever Headmaster Cid or Squall gave a directive for all of us to follow. I think it's not healthy. And one good example is the use of Guardian Forces. We all know that Cid authorized it with the full knowledge of its side effects. If someone were in the position to oppose, things like this would have been avoided."

Selphie wondered. Now a C student was being cerebral?

"Squall… I mean all of us realized the risks long ago, and we still continued to use GFs because we wanted to keep the ability to defend those we love. You realize what's going on, do you? There's Zeilgr Markkon and he's demanding for our heads. And Galbadia's become unstable again that anytime now either Dollet or Timber or both might call to ask for our assistance against another hostile invasion. We've always put the shackles on them before because the GFs give us our edge. And now you want us to stop using GFs?"

"And you're willing to lose precious memories in exchange for these powers? Just so you guys can run around and beat the living daylights out of Galbadian soldiers?"

"Hey, I know it sucks to not remember things that we've experienced. I also value the past. But I value the present more."

Brick wall, Arturo thought. He had no argument against that.

"Besides, we don't have to worry about memory loss anymore," Selphie continued, and felt a little disappointed when Arturo didn't react. She nevertheless went on. "It's a known fact that chronic memory loss is a direct result of junctioning. Or to be more precise, it is when we allow Guardian Force consciousness to occupy an area of the brain that is active enough to link with our consciousness but not so strenuous to brain resources as to take over the other interactive functions of the body, like moving our muscles, talking, listening, and thinking. And the only part of the brain that fits this role is the area that controls memory.

"Unfortunately, the microscopic cerebral folds that serve as records of our experiences – the ones that we know as our memories – develop protective layers in response to the electro-psionic properties that GF consciousnesses exhibit. And because of these protective layers, some of the cerebral fold records smooth out, or unfold, in effect erasing some of our memory. And the reason why we first forget elements of our earliest pasts is these are the ones that are closest to being smoothed out. Recent memory records are still deep and distinct. Actually, these cerebral fold records don't always remain as folds. At some point the resilient properties of the brain's surface cause the folds to open again. This explains why as we grow older, we tend to forget our distant experiences first. In the case of GF junctioning, the process just happens a lot faster."

Arturo tried not to look impressed. "Okay, so given that you've explained the mechanics of memory and memory loss through GF junctioning better than Instructor Aki. What's not to worry about anymore?"

Selphie heaved a deep breath before continuing. "Scientists in Esthar have been experimenting with this false memory-inducing drug they confiscated from Dr. Odine's lab back after he was arrested for kidnapping and using Squall, Quisty, Rinoa, Irvine and Ellone in one of his twisted experiments a few months ago. The drug in itself is dangerous and induces a deadly form of dream-reality state that warps the cerebral cortex with prolonged use. But they discovered that it has a component that seemed to have the exclusive function of counteracting the unfolding process of cerebral fold records, and have been trying to extract the derivative ever since. If they succeed, then we'd have a way of preventing memory loss at the same time that we're using GFs."

----------

Author's Note: The kidnapping incident mentioned above happened in _**True Destiny**_

----------

"And if they don't succeed?"

"We always have our diaries to fall back to, right?"

"But that's nothing compared to real memory."

"You're right. But it's better than nothing at all."

"Better for you. You have all you ever wanted to have."

Selphie was slowly growing irritated, not expecting that Arturo could be this assertive. True to her form, though, she tried to be patient.

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"Never mind." He said while turning away from her. Despite her annoyance, Selphie felt a little amused. Two years ago, on this very same spot, someone also turned his back on her this way. What did she tell him?

"_There you go again into your own little world. And you're not going to share anything, huh."_

That had always been typical of Selphie. In the same manner that she was open to sharing herself to the world, she also expected the world to share itself to her. Squall had pretty much opened up to a certain degree after they came back from Time Compression. Selphie even remembered how glad she felt when Squall told her about his fears of losing them again while he was time-lost. If anything, she had always seen him as an older brother despite the fact that they were the same age. She liked hearing him share things with her.

She didn't know if she felt that way about Arturo. Her personality urged her to convince him to speak his mind, but deep inside she somehow perceived that she wasn't going to like it. Never mind the fact that he had a heavy crush on her. She was used to that. Selphie even played this to her advantage sometimes with other guys that also had a crush on her. She still remembered walking inside Therren's room wearing nothing but a sheer negligee just to distract him enough to enable her to win back her own card from him.

----------

Author's Note: That particularly naughty episode was told in _**Danger Girls**_

----------

Selphie knew that she wouldn't have been feeling this way if he didn't start being so adamant. Men can only be so headstrong while avoiding getting under someone's skin. They should know when to set their limits. And Arturo was already crossing over his. But still, she tried to be patient.

"Arturo?"

"Okay, I'll tell you," he said, quickly pivoting towards her. Selphie didn't know whether to laugh or scowl. She didn't like people who played coy on her. "I feel very disappointed because you had to forget about the past because of the GFs. I feel disappointed that you began writing that diary recently, and it doesn't cover your experiences from fifteen years ago. It played to my disadvantage. And I feel _betrayed _because you're now going out with Irvine instead of me!"

"Betrayed? Why? Why are you talking like we have an understanding or something? Arturo, if you know something that I don't, tell me now. Stop beating around the bush."

"All right, I'll tell you! Fifteen years ago we…"

Arturo was abruptly cut short when a shrill noise suddenly tore through his head, as though someone was scratching a fork against a porcelain dish right next to his ears. He tried to cover his ears, doubling up and writhing in the midst of the mind-rending noise that continued to pierce into his mind.

Suddenly worried, Selphie tried to help him. "Arturo, what's happening to you?"

Despite the unpleasant pain, Arturo looked up and saw her, and realized that he was the only one hearing the tearing noise. He then understood where that noise was coming from. With the cognizance, the shrill siren began to die down, enabling him to stand upright once more.

Selphie drew a relieved sigh. "Gosh, are you okay now? What happened to you?"

"Nothing that concerns you," he said in a suddenly dark tone. Selphie backed off just as he began for the quad exit. "If you'll excuse me, I have something to do."

Selphie just looked at Arturo as he walked away, not knowing how to react to his behavior. If she had only known about the voice that echoed inside his mind…

"_I need you. Come to me."_

----------

Alone in her room, and hating every second of it.

She had never been the loner-type anyway. And because of this she seldom found herself alone like this. Most often she was with Squall, of course. But whenever he wasn't around, Rinoa had managed to gather a close circle of friends to at the very least assure that she wouldn't have to go through with what she hated the most. Of course, there were Selphie, Irvine and Zell. But Selphie was off with Arturo Hagel in the quad, Zell went to see a reportedly sick Iris in Timber, and Irvine was incommunicado since the other day.

She could hang out with that wacky bunch of SSEs, but right now she didn't feel like it. And thus, Rinoa was alone. But she still hated every second of it.

But somehow, she felt like she had to be alone. There had been times like this when she felt necessitated by everything that had been going on around her and consequently had been boggling her mind. It was one of those days when, because of all the events taking place at the same time, Rinoa would just find herself worrying about something, though she couldn't place a finger on what that something was.

And they were coming from all directions.

She was worried about the world in general, with how all this turmoil had been bringing unneeded pressure and stress to the most important people in her life. She was particularly worried about her father, the celebrated General Richard Caraway, incumbent commander-in-chief of the great nation of Galbadia. She was thinking of how he could cope with all the strain of dealing with protesters and dissenters, and face what he believed as another possible coup not unlike the one he had to endure last year. The pressure all this controversy was dealing on him must have been horrendous.

----------

Authors Note: _**The Fourth Universe**_.

----------

Additionally, she was wondering about the funny glances she had been getting from some people. So far, she had observed Xu and Marcus, and how they looked at her as though they felt sorry for her for some reason. Rinoa thought about having a word with them, but she couldn't be bothered with it right now.

Rinoa also worried about Squall. But in retrospect, she didn't know if the word 'worry' was right to describe how she was feeling. And she didn't know how to deal with the knowledge that somewhere out there her lover was convening with the one woman whom she believed can pose the greatest threat to their relationship if that woman had so chosen. Not that she didn't trust Squall and Quistis. Rinoa just wasn't comfortable with the idea. It may have been true that she wasn't going to blow her top over it, but…

Maybe deep inside, she had always envied Quistis. Maybe she had always been insecure of the woman who had the potential ability to break men's necks just by passing by. Of course, she was no pushover either. In her own right, Rinoa Heartilly was also renowned for her beauty, and not a few Galbadian gentlemen, young and old, can attest to that. But Helen of Troy can hold her own only so much against Aphrodite herself.

She shook her head furiously. What was she thinking? Quistis was her friend. And even though they hadn't been talking for months, she was still the best friend Rinoa could ever wish for. They had gone through so much and saved each other's lives too many times for her to think ill of the former instructor.

Rinoa tried to stop thinking, feeling that doing much of it was beginning to give her irrational thoughts. But just as she ceased focusing on Squall and Quistis, another perplexing thought began to take dominion over her mind. The beleaguered sorceress remembered what happened yesterday while she was in Zell's room. Trying to turn a deaf ear on a ringing phone to respect her comrade's propensity for privacy, Rinoa nonetheless decided to answer it when the ringing refused to stop. It must have been something important, she thought. She could always take a message and leave it at that.

What she heard unnerved her.

"_She will DIE a slow and painful DEATH."_

She remembered the fear that engulfed her upon hearing the deep and unknown voice that was obviously masked to hide the miscreant behind it. But it wasn't so much the abysmal voice that terrified her as it was the message. Who will die? If the call was meant for Zell, would that translate to Iris? Ma Dincht? Was someone's life in danger? And if so, why?

And why did the caller say

"_And it is all YOUR fault!"_

?

Since that moment, Rinoa had been trying to keep her eyes and ears open for any news about Zell, Iris, his family or Balamb itself. In the midst of anxiety, she tried to maintain a positive attitude. With any luck, that was nothing more than a prank call, and the Garden security committee's effort to flag incoming calls and set up a new, precautionary PABX spiel should scare it away. Maybe the prank caller had been scared away, since the Garden operators reported no more calls coming into Zell's phone.

It would have been easily dismissed, Rinoa thought, if Iris' friend hadn't told her of this mysterious illness that had befallen the pigtailed girl and forced her to go home to Timber. A mysterious illness… It had the uncanny reek of foul play.

And now Rinoa couldn't help worrying. Could there be someone secretly making a move against them?

That was the no-brainer question of the year, she thought. There could only be one who fit the bill.

Zeilgr Markkon.

If she could have it her way, Rinoa would have asked Squall to form a task force with the sole purpose of investigating the controversial Winhill governor, and uncover the reason behind his ferocious public attacks against Balamb Garden. They had a clue, yes. Anyone would have had good reason to be angry if his wife and kids got killed because of an errant Garden cadet's grandstanding plays in a terrorist situation. But if there was one thing she had learned from the brilliant and deductive Quistis Trepe, it was how to distinguish between a madman's undirected rampage and a mastermind's cold, calculated, and carefully planned actions. Perceivably, Markkon's activities belonged to the latter.

Rinoa wondered if she was alone in this perception, and if there was someone she could talk to about this.

If only her mother was still alive…

_Mom… times like this when I could really use your advice…_

Thinking about her deceased mother used to bring Rinoa some comfort. But that was before she became a SeeD and began regularly junctioning GFs. And though she had plenty of memoirs to remind her of the late Julia Heartilly, including the stories shared to her by General Caraway as well as prospective father-in-law, Laguna, Rinoa still thought it would have been better if she had retained the memories she had of her life before turning five.

Nevertheless, there was one thing she was sure of. Julia loved her with a love that defied reason. And if her mother had been alive today, Rinoa was certain she'd always be there for her. Though not known for insightful advices, Julia was reputed among the people around her as the most caring and gentle soul. Almost like Squall's mother, or so she heard. And what mother wouldn't come to her daughter's aid at a time like this?

On the side, the young sorceress wondered if the fact that she was a half-orphan qualified her to be called a Fated Child. She had been around Squall and the others long enough, so she probably already fit the bill. Besides, the media didn't seem to know the difference.

But no. The Fated Children could only be correctly called such because of the twists of fate that brought them together as kids, had them separated, and then brought them together again as young adults. Squall, Quistis, Zell, Selphie, Irvine, Seifer and Ellone… they were the Fated Children. Rinoa was raised thousands of miles away, by one of the most well known couples in Deling City, and had met all of them a mere two years ago.

So she wasn't a Fated Child. But why was she feeling like she shared a kinship with them? Was it from the last two years of breathing the same air, sharing the same jokes and dining on the same table? It seemed likely, but it also seemed trivial. For some reason, Rinoa felt there was a deeper reason for this uncanny feeling.

"Dammit… been thinking too much again," she muttered under her breath. She hated times like this when having no one around kept forcing her into excessive ponderings about her life. She really needed someone to talk to at this moment. If only her mother was alive…

Getting up, Rinoa opted for the next best thing. She closed her eyes and began to concentrate, trying hard to recall what Edea Kramer had taught her. Think about the person that she wished to talk to, and project her thoughts as though they were voices, to that person as though she was sitting right beside her.

Three floors up, Edea rose to attention.

"_Rinoa dear, your thoughts are in shambles. Something vexes you?"_

"_Matron… I sense a great anomaly. I'm not sure what this is but…"_ She paused, opting instead to relay the raw apprehension itself through her thought waves. _"… It's as if some great disaster is about to take place."_

Edea perceived Rinoa's thoughts and consequently felt pity for her protégé. She never realized that the very thing that had been occupying her and Cid's time during the last couple of days had been besieging Rinoa as well. Edea wondered if it was a side effect of being a sorceress. She had encountered this experience before as a child of five, right after receiving the embodiment for the first time.

And it wasn't a very nice feeling. Sorceresses, among other things, possessed unmatched psionic capabilities that enabled them to perform great feats using only their minds. Edea herself had utilized some of these powers to the fullest, from telepathically skimming person's minds to using her own telepathy to shield her thoughts from mind probe attempts against her, similar to what Ultimecia tried to do two years ago. It thus prevented the future-based sorceress from reading Ellone's whereabouts from her mind. On the side, Edea wondered if it was wise to have done so. Since Ultimecia couldn't read her memory even though she had established control of her body, the evil sorceress resorted to sending the Galbadian army on a destructive hunt for Ellone. And many innocents suffered because of that.

She'd readily dismiss the victims as mere casualties of war. But Edea, unlike Ultimecia for obvious reasons, valued life. Each one was sacred, and each one lost was a tragedy.

Edea dismissed her straying thoughts and focused on the matter at hand, specifically Rinoa's uncontrolled powers and the pains they were causing her. Such powers had a downside of occasionally picking up any and every thought within range without discrimination if the wielder was not fully trained. And even though it had been two years since Rinoa received the embodiment, it would still take a lot more than that for her to master her psionic capabilities. Edea felt a tinge of guilt once more for bringing this to Rinoa. Nevertheless, she quickly composed herself. In the first place, that was why up to now, Edea was still offering herself as Rinoa's mentor. It was the least she could do for what she unwittingly did to the young princess.

Slamming her eyes shut, Edea winced after feeling the distressful mental communiqué. And she confirmed that Rinoa was being troubled by the very same concerns she had been struggling against.

"_I… I am likewise feeling the same way, my dear…"_

"_Likewise…? Since when? Why haven't you told us anything? Matron, what is going on?"_

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that right now. As it is, both of our faculties have yet to determine precisely the cause of this disturbing perception. Cid and I have been laboring to establish…"

"_Zeilgr Markkon is involved in this, isn't he? Am I right, Matron?"_

"_Rinoa…"_

"_Matron, let us in on this. I'm sure between you, Headmaster and the five of us, we can find out what the governor is planning against Garden."_

"_Child, the last thing that we need right now is to act hastily on matters we have no full understanding of. And furthermore, you are aware of the directive both General Caraway and President Loire imposed on Garden. We are not to touch Governor Markkon. And I agree, for I believe doing so might only worsen the situation."_

There was a long pause from the other end of the thought line. But Edea wasn't unaware of Rinoa's disappointment. Her emotions were being conveyed just as clearly as her thoughts. The Matron was mildly surprised upon realizing that Rinoa also had a limited degree of what was known as broadcast empathy, a kind of mental capability that she never had during her time as a sorceress. She wondered if this was something inherent only to the princess.

But that was an issue to be dealt with on a later time. For now, she had her work cut out for her as a surrogate mother. Edea's mental voice began coming back to Rinoa like a gentle, soothing wind.

"Worry not, Rinoa. As soon as Cid and I find something, you can be sure that we'll let you know. But for now, the only thing that we can all do is to maintain our unwavering vigilance. We must not be caught with our guards down."

"_But Matron…"_

"_Rinoa…" _ Edea sighed. _"Patience. That's all I can impart to you right now."_

With that, Edea's thought essence vanished from Rinoa's awareness. Originally hoping for comfort in her consultation of the Matron, Rinoa instead felt the dread intensify. What could be so terrible that Edea and Cid would attempt to keep the five of them in the dark? She had been so used to them being the first to know every time adversity began to rear its ugly head. As it was, she had never felt more restless.

Rinoa's troubled thought was interrupted by soft knocks from the door. Sluggish from her mental conversation with Edea, she slowly rose from the bed. She then bellowed a long sigh of delight upon opening the door.

"Squall! You're back!"

"Rinoa..."

She quickly threw her arms around him, failing to notice his downcast face or the fact that he addressed her by her name instead of the pet name they had been used to calling each other with. All Rinoa knew was after all the things she had gone through in the last hour, Squall's presence was just what the doctor ordered to relieve her of the terrible burden.

But it wasn't about to last.

"Rin… I… I need to talk to you about something…"

**End Of Chapter 13**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

There was a time when he couldn't care less about Balamb Garden's immensity. Students thrilled at the size of it most of the time, especially the freshmen, who couldn't be more proud of having belonged to such a prestigious institution. Sometimes, others complained about it, most often transferees from other Gardens. He still remembered how Selphie used Garden's size as an excuse for being late for homeroom when they met two years ago.

Squall didn't care about all of these, of course. At least not during normal circumstances. But now he was rather thankful that Balamb Garden had such enormous dimensions. If it had been any smaller, that meant his trek towards Rinoa's room would have been much shorter. And frankly, he was hoping that somehow he'd been pulled into Time Compression all over again.

Again, he asked himself if it was wise to just come clean. Having arrived from Dollet where he met a Quistis pregnant of his daughter, Squall considered if he really needed to come out and tell Rinoa about everything. Could it be that he was just overreacting? The house where Quistis lived was located in a place remote enough to be out of reach from all save the most obsessed, like Marcus. He wouldn't have found it himself if it hadn't been for the clues grudgingly provided by the Trepie president and the former instructor's long time friend, Xu. Quistis sure knew how to hide from them. And if only for this, maybe he shouldn't have been worrying if someone else learned about the big secret.

But the thing was, someone did learn about it. Why did Marcus have to be so fixated on Quistis? What did he see in her anyway?

Squall took back that last sentence. If he hadn't been as detached as he was, he knew he would have been one of those drooling over her. He groaned, deeming it high time to rid himself of this hypocritical posturing.

He had the misfortune of running into Marcus upon walking through the gate. Squall thought he could still see the dagger in those eyes. Not that Squall was afraid of him. The only reason why Marcus got away with that punch was Squall was more concerned about why he did it. Having just come from a scrimmage with a Hexadragon, Squall's adrenalin level would have been more than enough to reduce Marcus to bloodied ribbons of flesh and bone. But young and beleaguered as he was, he still knew better than to kill the messenger, even if the message had come in the form of a fist sandwich.

No, he didn't care about that. Squall was more concerned that Marcus was within a few hundred yards of Rinoa. He was a potential bomb that could blow up anytime, within Rinoa's earshot.

Xu made it a double jeopardy.

And the way he knew they felt about him, trying to assume that Xu and Marcus would continue to keep a lid on the secret for his sake was like standing in the middle of a bomb-testing site without worrying about getting blown to pieces.

Already, he had grown paranoid. When the library committee looked at him as he passed them by the Garden directory, Squall could have sworn that they were already privy to the secret. Maybe they were, maybe not, and he didn't know for sure. But how could he safely assume their ignorance?

And there will be no telling what kind of exaggerations could accompany a potential revelation coming from other sources. Despite being SeeD commander and Doctor Kadowaki's claim of his popularity, Squall was still aware of the few who didn't exactly regard him as a messiah. One way or another, a number of students still carried a measure of grudge against him that stemmed from what they viewed as his undeserved position of favor in both Cid Kramer's and Quistis Trepe's eyes. And that run-of-the-mill jealousy syndrome may just heap an inch of dust that could aggravate into a mountain range given the circumstances.

No. It may appear dumb by most people's standards, but Squall knew that if the secret was to blow open, he'd rather it happened from him. At least he could hope to understate it enough to lessen the impact on Rinoa.

Like he could blunt the power of a nuclear bomb just by placing it inside a box.

The beleaguered SeeD commander was so caught up in dismal thoughts that he didn't even notice Xu standing by the entrance to the elevator. But when he did, one look at her and he could tell that she knew where he came from… and what he had just discovered. Hiding anxiety had never been Squall's strongest suit. Xu could easily tell that he had finally learned about the big secret, and it was fraying his nerves at this very moment.

She got that look in her eyes that seemed to say _Your move, hotshot. _Like she was actually expecting him to do the very thing that he had been struggling against. Level with Rinoa.

_You made a mistake. Now be man enough to see this through._

As if he had a choice.

The way Rinoa threw her arms around Squall, he'd think that for her, he was the best thing that ever happened in life. If only he could, he'd shoot himself in the head at this very moment.

"Rin… I… I need to talk to you about something…"

----------

It had been hours, and he was still staring at the phone.

Fury had never spelled correctly before, or at least that was how it seemed for Zell. Known for his brashness and impetuosity, the martial artist had always thought it wise to strike first and then ask questions later. Not that he ever thought things out at all. More often than not, his uncontrolled impulses had to be kept in check by his teammates to avoid aggravating already explosive circumstances. Many time had Zell repented whenever this happened, but just as many times he'd forget about his resolutions and give in to his furious eruptions all over again. If there was one person in Garden who should never be tapped for diplomatic missions, it was Zell.

Still, there had indeed been times when fury was more effective than the cold and calculated approach, when the situation called for the quick action of a battering ram instead of a carefully planned strategy. For this, Zell was decidedly more than perfect for the job.

Up until now, Zell thought he already knew everything about fury and rage. Now, he just realized that the so-called explosive rage that got the better of him many times in the past was nothing more than a mild annoyance. It couldn't possibly measure against the tempest raging inside him at this very moment. If it were possible, he'd punch a hole right through the planet itself just to pave a straight path between him and whoever it was snickering at the other end of the line a few hours ago.

_I'll get my hands on that bastard…_ He seethed with fiery wrath that could have shamed Ifrit himself. Where he normally had already been erupting with unprintable expletives, Zell now found himself unable to talk, with the only evidence of his frothing anger manifesting in the form of a reddened face and bone-white knuckles. _I'll get my hands on that bastard…_

Then what?

He'd definitely love to use his bare hands to strangle the creep, but even in anger, he knew that doing so will doom that girl lying on the bed before him. All Zell could manage was a few words of angst that couldn't even culminate with a consoling phrase of vengeance. Even in thought, he couldn't bear to bring it up, as though the mere thought itself could trigger Iris Deen's ultimate demise.

Whoever that bastard was, he claimed that he possessed the key to Iris' sickness. He declared that with the snap of a finger, he could instantly erase the ailment that had reduced the pigtailed girl to a slow-breathing vegetable. And it went without saying that since this incognito held the key, he must have been the one who designed the lock as well. Whoever it was Zell spoke to, he was the one who hurt Iris.

It had been many hours since the man hung up, but before doing so he left a haunting message that accompanied a return call number. Zell had checked the number, and found out that it was nothing more than a dummy number. There was nothing left of the call that he could trace.

Selphie… he could sure use her help right about now.

Zell reverted, guilt peppering his mind. How could he be thinking of Selphie at a time like this? Of course, she was his teammate and friend. And this wasn't exactly the first time he had to go against someone who used a voice masker and a pseudo-number fabricator while threatening him on the phone. The culprit may have been armed with state-of-the-art gadgets normally meant for government black ops, but Selphie was the best at what she did. And Zell knew that like before, she would already have nailed that bastard by now.

But he couldn't possibly bring Selphie into this. Not with what had been happening between them during the last six months. Zell simply couldn't afford her clouding his judgment, as it was already clouded enough by Iris' critical condition. Whether he liked it or not, he was on his own this time.

And he didn't know what to do.

If only…

"_Strength isn't always focused on the fists."_

If only he were here…

"_On the contrary, you have to focus more on your mind…and your heart."_

Zell wondered silently, training his thoughts at a time that had passed long ago…

"_It is the mark of a true warrior, for a warrior knows more than to simply fight."_

_He_ would have known what to do.

"_He must know what the right thing to do is, the wisdom to know when to do it…"_

If only…

"_And the courage to decide when NOT to do it."_

"That is real strength."

If he only had that strength…

Zell stared at the phone for the umpteenth time.

----------

Rinoa seemed oblivious to what Squall had just said. Her arms continued to slither around his body, feeling the warmth underneath the cold surface of the hide leather jacket that had been made model to thousands of imitations worn by self-proclaimed fashion gurus. It took a minute before Rinoa's arms moved from the hem to the air-cooled space underneath it, where she felt nothing more than his thinner white shirt. Squall, in all his guilt, still couldn't resist the urge to wrap his leather-clad arms around her soft body.

For a moment, he forgot that he had something to disclose. Rinoa's scent was intoxicating, from the fragrance emanating from her hair to the warmth that radiated between her cheeks and shoulders. No matter how often he held her, he had never really gotten used to this. Every time he embraced her, it was like everything was new.

What was it like losing it all?

"No…" Squall muttered, the feeling of comfort again overtaken by fear. Almost unconsciously, his body wiggled away from the princess' arms. The way he did it was gentle, but with a wave of urgency that was unmistakable. Rinoa sensed there was something different with the way he broke off from their embrace.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she cooed while trying to hold him close again. Squall closed his eyes. What the hell did he do to her?

"Rinoa… wait…" he forced out, tenderly but firmly holding both her shoulders. "We… we need to talk."

"Can't it wait?" she whispered tenderly. "I really had a rough day today and… well…" A long piece of blue clothing fell off from her body. Her hands then guided Squall's to the black strap over her shoulders, goading them to slide it off. "I just wanna be close to you tonight…"

Fighting Omega Weapon couldn't possibly have been tougher than resisting the steamy advance of his beloved. _No… not now!_ If there was one thing that he ached to do at this very moment, it was to simply take Rinoa into his arms and make passionate love to her for the rest of the day and all through the night. He can do it, of course. The dreaded confession can wait since no one could possibly get in between them tonight.

Carry her off to Blissville… then drop an anvil on her head.

_No…! _ Squall finally squirmed off. And Rinoa sensed that something was definitely amiss. Never in their two-year old relationship did Squall refuse her like this.

"What's wrong?" she asked, now with a questioning voice. The seductive undertone was completely gone. "Is there something bothering you?"

Squall staggered back, not knowing what to say. Rinoa repeated her question.

"Squall, what's wrong with you?" There was growing bewilderment in her voice.

"N-nothing." he stammered as he felt cold terror-sweat break out all over his body. "Just had a rough trip, that's all."

Rinoa frowned thoughtfully, mulling this new puzzle over in her mind. She remembered that he had just arrived from Dollet. "How did it go anyway? Were you able to see Quistis? How's she doing?"

Three questions, and all she got was a nod. An ugly weight began to grow in her stomach.

"Really? That's… cool." she said slowly. Her next words were laced with suspicion. "And… does it have something to do with the attitude?"

_Attitude?_ Hah! What a way of putting it, he thought.

"How's she doing?"

"She's fine…" he said softly. And Squall couldn't avoid the guttural echo in his voice. "She's… as we expected her to be."

Already puzzled by his evasiveness, she had to keep fighting back the tightening in her chest. No, she thought, just foolishness. He's got a problem and he was trying to work it out alone. A thought occurred to her. Bad news perhaps? That was so typical of Squall; was he trying to protect her from something? About Quistis or about that charmer that she'd fallen for?

"Were you able to meet Hunter?"

"Um… no. Turned out that he was sick with something when they met."

"Sick?" She asked, feeling a horrendously guilty sense of relief that she didn't understand. It wasn't about Squall, a small part of her whispered, and she puzzled at the thought.

Squall looked pale and sickly. "Terminal."

"Oh my goodness!" Rinoa held a hand against her mouth. "Does that mean…?" _He's gone._ Rinoa unwittingly continued in her mind_. Oh poor Quistis. That was the reason, of course, it had to be._ Squall's upset for a friend._ I've got to write her a letter or maybe send her flowers. Why didn't that silly girl tell me?_

"Yeah." He nodded wearily. "Hunter died some months ago. And Quistis is now living alone."

"Oh poor Quisty… Squall, I want to see her," she said, eagerly drowning the suspicions and more than happy to concentrate on the needs of a grieving friend. Her mind skittered from train schedules to wondering how much she'd need to pack. "Did you ask her if it's okay for us to visit? Were you able to find out why she pulled a disappearing act on us?" She asked the last question almost absent-mindedly.

"Um…"

His evasiveness rattled her nerves, making ugly feelings rise up out of a black sea once again. What was it? What was wrong? Her mind skimmed through a list of scenarios.

"Is she pregnant?" she tossed half-jokingly.

Squall staggered back. Until now, the barrage of questions had sailed past him, stifling yet bearable. But that last one slammed him like a mad truck. His paling face turned even pastier, terrified of the direction the conversation was taking. And his reaction didn't escape the sorceress.

"She's pregnant…" Rinoa answered for him, letting the word roll out of her mouth like some monumental event. It had a heaviness, an obscene weight to it that was hanging over them like a curse. The ugly, niggling whisper became louder and louder. Her mind kept screaming at her heart to just shut up. She didn't want to know what secret her heart was trying to tell her. She didn't want to know what it was that could make her sweetheart become this evasive, pasty creature.

Yet her heart kept screaming and her blood started to run cold. So if Quistis was pregnant, why was Squall reacting like he had just been handed a death sentence? There was something more to this than met the eye, and however hard she tried to ignore the signs, she now knew that she couldn't.

With interrogating eyes, Rinoa tried to fix her gaze on Squall's. He unwittingly avoided it, as if her gaze burned him. Her fists clenched even tighter. She could no longer block out the screaming of her own heart. She gave him one more chance to make a liar of her.

_Please, Squall, tell me that everything is okay and that I'm just being silly. Please,_ she pleaded silently. "Squall, if there's something I need to know, tell me now."

"Rin…" he tried to speak. But the mixed fear and anxiety lodged a terrible wedge that blocked Squall's voice at the same time that it began to burn his being. When he looked at her, his eyes were already glistening.

She could no longer endure the torture. Driven by the soul-wrenching need to know what she did not want to learn, the embodiment in Rinoa's soul activated without warning, pushing her mind to unintentionally penetrate through Squall's psyche.

It exposed a truth that stabbed her dead center into the heart.

"Oh my god…"

"Rinoa…"

She felt her heart crumble to ashes… and knew that her beloved had killed it.

"Oh my god…!"

"Rinny… please…"

"How… how…?"

She staggered back, almost queasily, her legs hitting the side of the bed, with her momentum pushing her to a sitting drop along its edge. The revelation came as a shock that rendered her numb for the next couple of moments. She didn't know what to make of it. Dizzying confusion engulfed her.

"How… how did it happen?" Rinoa stuttered, her pink lips abruptly turning pale. Her head felt light as a feather. "How did it happen?"

"Rinny, please listen to me…" Squall forced out, desperation written all over his face. How could he have done this to her?

"She… you…" Rinoa squinted at him, as if groping for an answer that she knew she will never get. "You got her pregnant? You had… when…? How?" Her broken voice continued to echo unabashedly. They flowed out monotonously but with a bitterness that Squall himself could taste. What did he just do?

"Rinny, I know it's hard to grasp but…"

"You slept with Quistis? And now she's pregnant of… your…?"

"Please listen to me!"

"When did it happen?" she asked with unexpected clarity, which for a moment led Squall to believe that Rinoa was trying to be levelheaded about the revelation. "How come I didn't even see anything that…"

Squall reached out to her. "Rinoa, come here…"

"Don't touch me."

He persisted. "Please…!"

"I said DON'T TOUCH ME!!!"

The burst of anger exploded in a psionic force wave that hurled Squall against the wall, the impact causing a loud crash that boomed across the hallway and startled a group of SeeDs who happened to be passing by. They looked at each other, perplexed by the sudden noise.

Inside, Squall immediately scrambled to his feet, oblivious to the debris of broken glasses, light bulbs, splintered woodwork, and a TV that sparked dangerously close to a puddle of water pouring out from a shattered aquarium. Oblivious he was even to the throbbing pain in his head brought about by that collision against the wall. The blood trickling along the back of his neck became the least of his concerns. Before him stood Rinoa, her eyes burning with the fire of indignation. Nothing could have rattled him more than the sight of a heartbroken sorceress.

But his fear changed when she spoke.

"How could you do this to me?" Rinoa bitterly wept. "How could you?"

Streams of smoldering tears flowed down her face, scorching her cheeks as they went to drip down from her chin that was quivering with anger and pain. Squall almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. He never expected a time would come that he'd see his beloved Rinoa in such agony. Her face was contorted in a mix of sweat, tears, rage and hurt, a cacophony of torment, confusion and abandonment that could only come from someone whose heart had been shattered into a million stinging shards.

And seeing her in such pain broke his heart. All of a sudden, a rush of harrowing pity overcame the SeeD commander. How could this happen to the two of them of all people? He loved her so much… He loved her that defied reason… with a love that pushed him to time and again risk his life to save hers without a second thought. Squall loved Rinoa supremely, and he had never loved anyone more.

Seeing her this way tortured him. And he wanted nothing more right now but to offer her his arms and shoulders, to comfort her and give her rest, to save her anew from yet another ordeal that threatened to rend her to pieces. Never mind that her body sizzled with uncontrolled sorceress energy. All he wanted to do was hold her and tell her that everything will be all right.

But HE was the one who did this to her. His betrayal was the one who brought this unto her.

Rinoa's voice slipped out like a fading scream.

"You betrayed me…!"

Squall's tears dropped from his strained eyes.

"I didn't mean to… Rinny, I'm so sorry…"

"Why did you betray me?" she exclaimed, sinking down to a kneeling despair. "You and Quistis… you both betrayed me! How could you do this to me?!?"

Squall could no longer stop himself. Even with the risk of burning himself, the SeeD commander quickly ran to his beloved and held her close without hesitation. Her body trembled terribly as weeping turned into unabashed wails of pure hurt. Squall embraced her tightly, as though trying to shield her from the excruciating pain radiating from inside her shattered heart. Buried in his chest, Rinoa did nothing but cry out in agony, with her tears flowing freely down her contorted face and into Squall's trembling arms. They both became unaware of the time as the harrowing moment seemed to last for an eternity.

Eventually, Squall felt Rinoa pushing his arms off her. He didn't try to stop her as she stood up to compose herself, albeit vainly. Every time she wiped her eyes, a batch of fresh tears fell down to replace the river that had been wiped off. Slightly wobbling, Rinoa made her way towards the desk that only then did she notice had been toppled by her telekinetic outburst. She contented herself to sitting at the edge of the disheveled bed while Squall remained on his genuflected position.

Finally, she spoke out.

"Get out. Leave me alone."

"Rinoa… please! I didn't mean to…"

"Didn't mean to? Didn't mean to what? Didn't mean to fall into Quistis' bed, like you were just walking by her bedroom and a banana peel happened to be lying on the floor? You didn't mean to what? Squall, do you have any blasted idea how things like this happen? You take off your clothes, she takes off her clothes, and you two clamp yourselves on a bed and grind against each other! Unless she drugged you or chained you against the bed posts which if she really did, GOD HELP HER, you MEANT to do what happened and you MEANT everything you did with her! You expect me to believe you DIDN'T MEAN TO? WHAT?!? BULLSHIT!!!"

The words stung his ears, and Squall could hardly believe that he was hearing all of these from Rinoa. His sweet Rinoa, who had not been anything in his eyes but sugar and honey and a little dab of spice rolled into one. Rinoa, the tender soul that broke his shell and freed him from his self-imposed isolation…

It all seemed to belong in the distant past now as he beheld the Rinoa standing before him, seething like a white-hot iron and roaring like an aggravated tiger. Squall had never seen her face with such rage and hatred. He had never heard her voice this hoarse, never seen her teeth gnashing like this or the blood vessels on her neck threatening to burst. He hardly knew this Rinoa… and he desperately longed to see the old one that just a few moments ago was inviting him to a torrid night of love-making.

Squall had feared, but he never thought his fears would be realized. Now it looked real. Now he knew that indeed he was in danger of losing Rinoa. And what made it a hundred-fold worse was he knew it was all his fault. Consequently, he could hardly stand looking into her face. The scowl in what used to be Rinoa's angelic visage appalled, disgusted, and frightened him at the same time.

"No, Squall. You can pretend and lie all you want, but I already know the truth. And you know what's so bloody hilarious? 'Then go talk to a wall!' Remember that? You are such a HYPOCRITE! So many bloody people thought you're this high and mighty god-wannabe whose almighty powers mocked the renowned charm of the irresistible Quistis Trepe while everyone else just couldn't help but secretly wag their tongues in their cheeks whenever she passed by. All those years, you made it look like you're the only one who could never be enamored by her magnetism. You are GOD'S GIFT to MALE MACHISMO, subject to no one and lord over everyone. Oh yeah, you are such a LION!

"But only you know the truth. No one ever suspected this, which meant either you're one hell of a brilliant pretender or the rest of us are just plain FOOLS! But no one saw the truth that you planned this all. You planned this while making everyone believe you're so different from all the other guys who just couldn't wait to jump into bed with Quistis. You planned and waited for her to reach her breaking point, so that when you finally push her button, you know she wouldn't have a ghost of a chance of resisting you because you ingeniously eroded her resistance away!"

"Rinoa, no. I may have made a mistake, but I didn't plan…"

"WHY AM I PROTECTING THAT BITCH ANYWAY?!? Resistance? Yeah, RIGHT! You and Quistis are much more alike than the two of you'd care to admit, you know. You two both have such high and mighty ways of looking at yourselves that you've become detached from reality as the rest of us mere mortals know it. You two have so PROUDLY bolstered your own deluded self-images by making people believe you're way above human standards and idiosyncrasies. Well guess WHAT! You're no different from the rest of us! And one day you and Quistis just decided to do away with all the pomp and all the pretension and give in to your human sides that you two viciously kept hidden from the public view to make everyone believe you two are so special and so above the rest of us! One day, you two just thought, 'Hey, what the hell!'"

Rinoa's tears had begun to form a small pool by her feet, while her clenched fists had turned white from the absence of blood. She looked as though she was still groping for more toxic words to slap her pain against Squall's face. But all that bellowed next where labored breaths, whistling wheezes and gasps for air as Rinoa struggled against the terrible anger that had blocked her breathing. She groaned, she squealed, and she cried, but she could no longer say anything.

Squall just stood there, wanting so much with all his heart to hold her and yet holding himself back, wary that any move he made might only make things worse. They both stood there, almost motionless, both feeling as though they had descended into hell.

Eventually, the ferocious rage in Rinoa's face slowly transformed into an expression of immense sadness and deep pain. She stopped breathing hard and her moans gradually died down. They were all then replaced by muffled sobs.

"I loved you, Squall… And I loved Quistis…" She started to weep again, biting her lips hard. "… I loved her deeply… like the sister I've always wanted but never had. She was my best friend…"

Squall felt his heart break anew.

"And… and I've dreamed of someday marrying you…"

No, it didn't break. It shattered. All over again.

"I was going to marry you, Squall," Rinoa said bitterly, with her voice so weak, blocked by the pain in her chest that felt like swallowed brine. "I… was… going to marry you…"

Squall felt his chest caving in. He knew his dreams were beginning to slip through his fingers. But he had to try.

"Rinoa, nothing has to change…"

Even if he had to say the most stupid thing in the world.

And she rent his being asunder by shaking her head.

"No, Squall. This changes everything. You betrayed me. You and Quistis… Nothing will ever be the same again…"

"No… Rinoa, please!"

"Squall… I don't ever want to see you again."

**End Of Chapter 14**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Seeing Rinoa like this frightened her.

Many times in the past, Selphie had had the chance to play the role of good listener to her friends back in Trabia. There were quite a few of them, and a good majority had at one time at the least contended against grave situations and serious problems, those deemed mandatory to be shared with a friend or risk the bearer going insane. Some of them had problems with their peers, others with relatives, and not a few even had to struggle against problems with themselves.

Most of the time Selphie was only too willing to lend her listening ear to her beleaguered friends, although there had been a few occasions when the immensity of their predicament rattled even her. As a matter of fact, she had lost two of her closest buddies when they had to leave Trabia Garden due to unwanted pregnancies. This was one of the two kinds that had the ability to shake her seemingly invincible perkiness. The other was depression that led to suicidal tendencies. Fortunately, she had not seen much of that from her inner circle. Selphie wouldn't have known what to do otherwise.

Cheating boyfriends had been the most run-of-the-mill, and might she add, the most mundanely manageable. Though not known for being a man-hater since she wasn't really one, Selphie had sometimes been misconstrued as such due to her vehemence in telling jilted girl friends that

"Boys are a dime a dozen. You can lose one without having to worry about going to the prom dateless because there are always others waiting at the wings. They'd most probably only want to end up in bed with us but at least, we're not gonna look pitiful like we would if we went stag."

Maybe that was why despite her amicability, Selphie had quite a little on the way of serious relationships before she met Irvine. Aside from the Galbadian gunslinger (who was a ladies' man anyway so he probably wasn't as scared of being dissed as the other guys), very few had tried their luck with her. She was damn cute, yes. And nauseatingly cheerful. But Selphie had always been the type who was much better to have as a friend than a girlfriend. She was the type that had never had trouble welcoming almost everybody in her circle but was also always ready to say 'Let's be friends' if a guy so much as hit on her with a cheap wink and a Jacuzzi invite. Arturo Hagel was lucky, but only because Selphie operated on pure sympathy when she went out with him a few days ago.

Maybe that was why she worried little about Irvine cheating on her. He may have been laid-back when it came to girls but Selphie knew that he knew he did go through the eye of the needle before she agreed to go steady with him. He may have been frivolous, but Irvine knew how to take care of his treasures.

She seemed to have been the only one who wasn't very scrupulous about cheating.

Selphie shook her head. This wasn't the time to antagonize herself over it.

Not when Rinoa lay on her bed, doubled up like a fetus and crying her lungs out.

And for the first time, Selphie saw that a girl being cheated by her lover could be a very serious problem. Specifically when Squall and Rinoa were the ones involved.

Let it be anyone, but _not_ Squall and Rinoa. Few would believe the kind of gauntlet they had gone through just to get these two together. And even fewer would even consider Squall and Rinoa breaking up because of a third party.

And with Quistis being the third party, suddenly they had nitroglycerin in their hands.

Not that none had ever considered such a possibility. Squall, Rinoa and Quistis had been the classic poster children of the predicament called 'love triangle' that not a few, not-so conscientious plot devisers had at one time at the least fancied exploring. Among the curious denizen who found these quagmires exciting, the three of them had been the subject of much discussion and debate. Some said it couldn't happen, some said it could, some said it shouldn't, some said it should just for the sake of a good, intriguing story.

And others even expanded the three-sided controversy to four with the inclusion of Seifer, whose role as Rinoa's former beau wasn't exactly a secret. Actually, a number had expressed that they wouldn't be surprised in the event Squall and Seifer locked horns because of Rinoa. Selphie knew this, and whenever she'd hear of such things, she'd just shrug her shoulders and pretend that she didn't hear anything.

And that didn't count the inane concept of a Seifer-Quistis pairing that would have run rampant in the B-Garden message board dating thread if it hadn't been for Xu's adamant efforts to dispel such notions during the last two months. Xu had been vehement in insisting that Quistis already belonged to someone else, and even added that anyone who would so much as hint on another so-called 'Quiefer' scenario will find a Gratling hiding under his/her bed. An empty threat? Selphie was too amused to think otherwise.

The stupid 'Quiefer' concept aside, her reaction towards anyone who'd even imply a scenario between Rinoa and Quistis was a little more animated and, might it be added, hostile. Yes, Selphie was aware of the former instructor's feelings towards Squall, but she also knew Quistis better than that. She'd always considered the instructor's demeanor as far above matters of such depravity, a belief that stemmed in no small way from the unequivocal fact that the two of them were the best of friends.

Ultimately, everything blew up in Selphie's face. Her faith in Quistis, her confidence… everything. And now, Rinoa was here, doubled up like a fetus while lying on her bed and crying her lungs out… because she had discovered that nine months ago, Squall had slept with Quistis and gotten her pregnant.

Quistis… pregnant of Squall's child…

The whole concept sounded so ridiculous Selphie was still having a hard time processing it. She could hardly believe that such a thing could, and did, happen. And she also had never seen Rinoa in such a devastated state.

How in the world did that happen?

Selphie was also known as a very good comforter for distraught friends, one of the plus sides of her overly cheerful nature. In a way, she prided herself with it. She had always been glad that she had the ability to push rationality in the minds of her girl friends who felt like de-boning their lovers with their fingernails.

She wasn't so surprised to realize that she didn't know what to do today. Selphie was too rattled to even speak. Only one thing kept echoing in her mind.

_So that's why Quisty left…_

The confused Trabian struggled to discern her feelings. There was that unmistakable urge to run up to Quistis and ask her why in hell she did this. Selphie would have done so if she had known where to go. Even though she hated it, she had begun to feel a bit of resentment for what the instructor did. How could Quistis do something like this? Didn't she even consider that Rinoa was her best friend? How could Quistis commit such a sickening act of betrayal?

Talk about callous. And Selphie thought Squall at least appreciated the blessing that had enriched his life in Rinoa's form. She had never known him to be the egotistical type. That was Seifer's infirmity. On the contrary, Selphie had always known Squall with a deep-seated fear of being alone, a fear that spawned from Ellone's necessary abandonment of him a long time ago. Having admitted his need for friends and a partner in life didn't come easy, as it came in the midst of great adversity in the face of Rinoa's near-death experience by Ultimecia's hands two years ago. Maybe he did. He sure looked that way for a while. For someone who once suffered from a serious attachment disorder, Squall surely did a great job in showing everyone how much he loved Rinoa.

Then he'd up and cheat on her. And with Quistis at that.

What were they thinking?

… …

Selphie paused. She was wrong. This was a perfect time to antagonize herself. She hadn't exactly been a saint herself.

She thought about Irvine… and then Zell. To her dismay, she remembered her own transgression.

She was in no position whatsoever to land judgment on Squall and Quistis.

But that shouldn't stop her from offering a sisterly shoulder to Rinoa. For now, that was the only thing she can do.

Gingerly, she rested her hand on Rinoa's shoulder, and felt the terrible trembling that accompanied her friend's bitter weeping. The pain that Rinoa must have been going through at this moment, she couldn't even begin to imagine. How would it feel like if the man she loved cheated on her? How would it feel like if Irvine also slept with another girl?

(How would Irvine feel if he learned about her and Zell?)

Selphie wanted to cry with Rinoa. She didn't know if witnessing an act of unfaithfulness from a bird's eye view was a sort of penance for what she had been doing. She felt her heart breaking, as though Rinoa's hurt was assaulting her too.

And as badly as Selphie wanted to, she couldn't do or say anything to alleviate Rinoa's anguish. If she could, she'd offer to take at least half of her friend's burden on her own. Rinoa certainly didn't deserve this.

And that was also true for Irvine.

_Irvy… I'm so sorry…_

Rinoa continued to cry, her tears now drenching Selphie's feather-stuffed pillow, its white covering turning pale gray from the moisture. Her eye bags were already swollen, looking almost like boxer's eyes. Her lower lip had cracked slightly; she had been biting on it for too long.

Selphie heard Rinoa whisper.

"I… I wanna die…"

"No you don't," Selphie said, her voice nearly broken. "You don't want to die. You want to live through this. Trust me."

Her chest too heavy, Rinoa didn't answer, and instead buried her face in the pillow. It was as though she had lost the will to do anything, as the terrible bitterness continued to gnaw into her heart like acid burning through a sponge. She still couldn't believe what had happened. She couldn't accept the truth that Squall, her greatest love, could betray her callously. She couldn't accept that the man she loved and planned to marry had shared a sensuous night with another woman. A night that he should only be sharing with her.

And as if to torture her further, Rinoa's mind unwittingly produced images of Squall and Quistis, both naked, slithering on a bed amidst crumpled sheets and displaced pillows over a bed whose brass head posts repeatedly thudded against the wall. The sight was horrendous for her, and she tried to shut it out by closing her eyes tight. But the images continued, of locked lips and exploring tongues, of hands running down backs and fingernails digging into sweat-soaked shoulders, of smooth and blinding legs wrapping around muscular ones and pelvises grinding and mashing into each other.

As though the mental images were not enough, the sounds started to complement them with horrid clarity. Rinoa would exchange her soul to the devil if only to stop the cacophony of moans and blissful squeals, mixing with squeaking bolts and hinges that had been having difficulty holding the bed together. She heard Squall groaning, with its resonance eventually growing muffled as though another mouth had pressed against his. Rinoa held her hands tightly against her ears when she heard soft, feminine whimpers calling out a deity's name with breath-deprived throats.

Her mind almost shattered upon hearing Quistis cry out Squall's name in staccato gasps.

Cruelly, the visions didn't stop there. They were followed by a bitter realization of that perfidious night resulting to a heart-gorging truth that the man she loved was about to have a child with another woman. Quistis was pregnant… of Squall's child.

It was supposed to be her. She was supposed to be the one to bear his child…

… Not some pitiful hussy who didn't know better than to force her way into a man whose heart had already been pledged to another. Not some whore who cunningly and deceitfully swore her friendship, which Rinoa now knew as nothing more than a veil to hide the truth about her treachery.

Quistis… betrayer. A false friend. Betrayer!

Rinoa gnashed her teeth and clenched her fists, ramming blood-emptied knuckles hard against her chest as though trying to pound the pain away from her heart. It throbbed as she did, as if actually resisting her efforts. As if retaliating, the harrowing pain instead clung tighter to her heart, bringing it on the brink of bursting amidst black fires from the trident of a heartless angel. It burned and radiated pure, briny-bitter pain that infected her entire being with a cruelty that not even the vilest of avenging spirits could muster. The more she hit her chest, the more they were besieged with incredible torment. Rinoa had never known pain and misery this great. In spite of the futility, she continued beating her chest with closed fists.

Rinoa eventually grew tired of hitting herself, and instead settled with faint echoes that blazed with hatred.

"d-damn you… squall… damn you quistis! damn you both to hell…!"

Small but clear beads fell from Selphie's eyes. She heard what Rinoa said, and felt as though the words were meant for her.

Composing herself, the Trabian lass opted to keep still beside her distraught friend. Though hating the feeling of helplessness, Selphie knew that she couldn't do anything but to simply stay beside Rinoa and let her know that she wasn't alone. It didn't matter that she was besieged by guilt. Rinoa needed her.

The sobs eventually ceased after what seemed like hours. Selphie leaned forward and stretched her neck, looking over Rinoa to see that she had fallen asleep, totally drained by grief. Despite it, Selphie decided against leaving Rinoa's side, promising to stay here until such time when her friend was ready to talk.

----------

He had always thought himself a father to them. Nurturing them for most of their tender years, he had seen to it that no harm came their way, as much as his abilities permitted. Remembering all those times when he always admonished them to regularly brush their teeth, clean the back of their ears when taking a bath, always call him if they wanted to play by the beach, never wallow in mud, never run with sharp objects, never play with firecrackers (though that one was often ignored), always observe their bedtime, Cid thought he had done a good job. Protecting them from being hurt had become his goal in life until time came when they had to look after themselves or were taken away from the orphanage.

He thought he had seen it all and done it all. But that was before this moment. As Squall sat hunched across his desk, Cid realized that he still had a lot of learning to do. He used to be proud that the kids he took care of had grown so splendidly that they seemed to have adapted to the rigors of teenage life without his guidance. Not that he deliberately denied himself from them, but looking after teenagers and running a military academy had never been a good mix. Still, the Headmaster was glad that he didn't have to. Except for a brief episode when he had to advise Quistis to get over the loss of her teaching post, Cid had thought that they all held their own quite successfully.

But that was before this moment.

He looked at Squall, noting the desperation in his eyes as he maintained his silence. The latter must have thought he didn't have to tell Cid what happened. And he was right. Some students who had witnessed the scene had already told Cid that Squall and Rinoa had a very serious fight, and it somehow involved Quistis. Overlooking the need to file an expense report for repairing Rinoa's room, Cid thought he had to focus first on the SeeD commander's problem.

But he hardly knew anything about lover's quarrels. At least, not the kind typical for this generation. But he felt he had to learn fast. Squall had always been a lone wolf despite his admittance for his need of friends that came after being time-lost two years ago. And a lone wolf desperate enough to take the initiative in seeking someone else's help had always been a grave thing.

"I take it this has something to do with Rinoa," he opened. Squall took his time before nodding sluggishly. So this was about Rinoa. But how serious had the situation become for Squall to come running to him like this? Cid considered some scenarios, and consequently felt a headache coming. "Am I to assume that you're going to tell me what happened?"

If Squall had been more sensitive, he'd feel offended by Cid's remark. But the thing was, he had no plans of telling Cid the details. It was enough that he knew it was about Rinoa. He was still a lone wolf after all.

Squall shook his head to let Cid know that he had something else in mind.

"Headmaster… I know this is a bad time for this but…" he dallied, wary of the Headmaster's reaction. "… But… I thought maybe I should take a break from my duties for a little while."

"Why?"

"I… I have to take care of something."

"About Rinoa?"

Squall didn't answer.

"Have you spoken to Laguna about this?" Cid asked, his hesitation coming in a bit too late. Yes, Squall had already accepted with an open heart that Laguna was his father. And maybe he had even forgiven the Esthar president for what the latter did two decades ago. But still, Cid had never known Squall to run to Laguna to seek fatherly advice.

Cid waited, but Squall continued with his silence. The Headmaster then opted for the direct approach.

"All right, tell me what happened."

That was almost hilarious, Squall thought. It was bad enough that he had to endure the questioning look some SeeDs threw at him on his way to Cid's office, as though they knew everything that happened. He almost melted from the shame and guilt. How then could he expect to muster enough boldness to tell the Headmaster that Rinoa broke up with him because she had learned that he got Quistis pregnant?

He couldn't. He was too ashamed.

Shame gave way to bitterness as Squall was reminded that he was in danger of losing Rinoa. He felt an asphyxiating knot in his throat, bringing him to heave a deep breath that felt short.

Cid noted his behavior. He then remembered what he had heard, about Quistis being involved.

"You know, Edea once got mad at me because she thought I was growing too close with this girl that I went to college with. You'd think a gentle soul as hers has the ability to roar like a wounded tiger. But the thing is, women are like that. In fact, the sweeter they are, the worse they become when they're angry."

Squall didn't budge. He didn't even seem to be listening. Cid persevered nonetheless.

"It took me a whole month just to appease her and have her take back what she said about our engagement being over. That was probably the longest month in my life; I almost literally went through the eye of a needle to get her back.

"But if that experience taught me anything, it's that women have the easy penchant to feel betrayed."

Betrayed? Squall almost scoffed. Cid sure got that right.

"But furthermore, women, more than anything else, have this need to be pampered no matter how strong a character they profess they have. I'm not really bought into this feministic attitude of women always wanting to be treated like men. Give them something to feel insecure about, and they'd run to their rooms faster than anyone junctioned with Pandemona, Cerberus, Eden and Lockheed could ever hope to move."

Was that levity? In his state, Squall could hardly tell.

"Still, this is something that we men have to always keep in mind. It is our job, within reasonable bounds, to give the women we love what they want. It is our job to at all times make them feel loved. Yes, we can be jerks sometimes, but never so much as to render anything unrecoverable if we truly love them. If there's one very important lesson I've learned from that experience, is that no matter how grave the situation seems, _love never fails_."

Squall twitched. He could have sworn he felt a flicker of hope flash inside him.

He then remembered that Quistis was pregnant.

How far could love's power possibly extend when faced with that kind of predicament?

True to his character, Squall looked at Cid with an expression that seemed to say 'Not this time.'

And Cid recognized the look. He stared back at Squall with eyes that bellowed a million questions. Even though Cid didn't say a word, Squall knew that at that point, he was demanding for answers. What could be so bad as to render his impressive speech about the infallibility of love crassly moot?

Cid's head almost exploded with the answer.

"Quistis is pregnant. And I'm responsible."

_WHAT?!?_ Cid's mind hollered. How did it happen? He was so flabbergasted he couldn't mouth the screaming questions even if he wanted to.

But he didn't have to. Displaying a kind of initiative that wasn't typical of him, Squall began narrating what had happened during the last nine months, from the night he got drunk and met Quistis in Balamb and how she decided to spend the night in the hotel with him. Though reluctant, probably because of its inherent absurdity, Squall nevertheless emphasized that he could hardly remember what happened that night, and how Quistis lied to him.

Squall again hesitated upon getting to the part when Quistis left Garden. He wanted to respect her right to privacy. But since everything had started blowing out in the open, perhaps it wouldn't hurt anymore for the Headmaster to learn what had become of the former instructor. Cid's eyebrows crumpled when Squall started recounting the life Quistis had been leading during the last six months in Dollet. Squall thought he saw a smile almost breaking out from Cid's lips when he said that Quistis had married Hunter, the mystery man who aided her against the incubus. Cid cringed when Squall subsequently told him that Hunter had already died, and Quistis was now a widow.

A widow barely seven months into her marriage, and nine months pregnant of a child that wasn't sired by her late husband. Cid shook his head. How could something as pitiful as this befall his most competent soldier?

Squall didn't know exactly how Marcus found Quistis, but that didn't matter anymore. Cid was now aware of all the essential facts. He now knew how grave the situation really was. The SeeD commander paused for a while, looking as though he hadn't slept for ten years. Cid stared at Squall, all the while thinking how prosaic his speech about love had turned out to be compared to the grim tidings at hand. And Squall must have guessed his thoughts.

"Now tell me, Headmaster. Do you still think love will prevail this time?"

----------

It was past dinnertime when Selphie awoke with a start. She didn't notice that she had fallen asleep leaning against the headboard of her bed. Disoriented, she groped in the dark, unsure of what she was looking for. Her eyes squinted when the bedside lamp suddenly glowed to life.

"Umm…" she moaned sleepily. "Rinny…?" Responding to her call, Rinoa pulled herself up and sat on the bed beside her. "I must have dozed off. What time is it?"

"Quarter before nine," Rinoa answered softly. "I didn't wanna wake you, but…"

Recovering from her grogginess, Selphie looked at Rinoa and observed her silently. She couldn't remember what time she had slipped into sleep or if Rinoa had stopped crying before that. But later on, as her head cleared, Selphie did recall that Rinoa had fallen asleep before she did.

Sleep. Seemed like nobody had been getting enough of it lately. Between her anxieties about Irvine and Zell and the concern for Garden in light of Zeilgr Markkon's public attacks, Selphie could hardly manage a healthy six hours of sleep like she used to. Though teenagers typically started developing the habit of staying late at this stage in their lives, the early ventures in nocturnal awareness were usually limited to three or four hours past bedtime. Even the Training Center's 'Secret Area' didn't receive many visitors that late.

Selphie's hours between 12 PM and 4 AM, the time when she was usually asleep, had been characterized by useless efforts to force slumber into her during the last few days. Making it worse, her body didn't necessarily compensate for the loss, and she would still get up at 6 AM whether she set her alarm clock or not. For the last couple of days, her trademark perkiness had been mired with significant decrease because of this. Sometimes she wondered if she could steal a little bit of time to take a nap. But naps were out of the question because of her roles as member of the SeeD Corps Council of Deputies and chairperson of the Garden Festival Committee.

Selphie would have seen a sleep therapist if she didn't already know the cause. She had been agonizing on the two men in her life.

And she thought she had problems. Now, looking at Rinoa like this, Selphie again felt sorry for her friend for what she had been going through. Rinoa had stopped crying, though it was too late to save her eye bags from being swollen like crusted kiwi slices. But even then, Selphie knew that the anvil in her heart had not left. She knew that the reason why Rinoa had stopped weeping was she had run out of tears. It would take a couple of hours before the gland connected to her tear ducts replenished its supply. And when it did, she will again begin to cry.

There was nothing Selphie wouldn't do to remove Rinoa's pain, and she'd stay with her as long as she could if she needed to. Selphie whished she didn't have to see Rinoa again in this state.

The Trabian was mildly startled when the sorceress suddenly stood up.

"Come on, Sef. Let's get out of here. This room is beginning to suffocate me."

"What? But… where we going?"

"Balamb," Rinoa replied. "I want to have some fun."

----------

Squall couldn't help thinking; the last time he felt a faint shadow of his present emotions was fourteen years ago. And that was a mere assumption, for how serious could things be in the eyes of a four-year old? Pretty damn much, he surmised. For kids, everything that happened around them was serious, contrary to the claims of most adults who lacked the imagination required to project their emotions to how they'd felt when they were kids. Most grownups thought kids had it made because for them, everything was frivolous and everything was about playtime, never even considering that kids played games so much because they thought they were doing the real thing. Just look at how Selphie and Irvine played 'WAR' with the other kids.

Though he could no longer recall it, Squall continued assuming that he knew how he felt fourteen years ago when Ellone left him in the orphanage. He must have felt really bad, so much that he chose consequently to shun everyone away, thinking that by being alone he could protect himself from the pain of unwanted goodbyes. But no matter how bad it must have felt, he was at least sure that however he felt back then, it could only have been like a faint shadow compared to how he was feeling right now.

He stood silently by the splintered doorway of Rinoa's room, staring blankly at the disheveled bed… where he had at many times shared enchanting moments with the most beautiful Timber resistance fighter he had ever seen. Visions in his mind formed and mingled with those coming from his eyes, of that bed, of the two of them, of nights that seemed endless yet too brief. A faint smile unwittingly broke out from Squall's lips while reminiscing those moments.

The smile suddenly disappeared, wiped away by a stubborn, accusing conviction that reminded him he absolutely had nothing to smile about.

Were those moments now merely things of the past? Was it true that he could never take back what he had lost? Was it true that he had already lost Rinoa?

Squall couldn't even accept the thought. It tortured him to even ponder about a future without her. And it almost killed him to admit that this crisis wouldn't have been possible if he hadn't been incorrigibly stupid.

Pleading puppy dog eyes looked around the messy room, where he had spent much more time than he did in his own room.

The chaotic appearance seemed to represent the state of their relationship right now. And the symbolism worsened when he noticed the porcelain figurines that lay smashed on the floor. The pieces were so small, so much that he knew there was absolutely no way to put the ceramic dolls back together again.

Could the same be said about him and Rinoa?

Squall closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, fiercely rejecting the thought. He loved Rinoa with all his heart. And he knew that despite her anger, Rinoa's feelings for him had not waned. In fact, she wouldn't be that furious if she didn't love him that much. In spite of everything, he knew that love was still pretty much in the equation. And where love dwelled, hope always followed.

He mustn't lose hope. He mustn't. Fighting to keep the tears of despair at bay, Squall defied his own principles and bolstered his faith on love. He had to. He had nowhere else to go without her.

Squall would take Rinoa back, or he would die trying.

----------

"Rin, I don't think this is a good idea."

It was the fourth time tonight that Selphie said those words. The first was ten seconds after they took off from the Garden garage riding a turbocharged Skyline GTR that General Caraway gave Rinoa for her nineteenth birthday. She was behind the wheel, while Selphie sat beside her on the front passenger seat of the trendy sports car whose backseats had enough room for only a pair of backpacks. Selphie tried to keep herself from gripping hard against the lower cushion of her seat as she watched the speedometer go from 10 to 100 mph in three seconds twelve. Sixteen minutes into the trip, a Balamb road patrol aimed his radar gun at them, the device registering speeds in excess of 140 mph. He would have flagged them down if he didn't notice the Balamb Garden custom plates on both ends of the sports car.

The second was upon arriving in Balamb town after a one-hour drive that normally took almost three hours. As if her nerves weren't frayed enough from that long distance speed run, Selphie had to scowl disbelievingly when Rinoa parked the car right in front of a fire station's emergency ramp. Parking was unbelievably scarce, Rinoa had reasoned while walking past a half-empty parking lot.

The third, Selphie thought, should have been protested more vehemently. Getting a table in the popular Balamb pub, she glared at Rinoa when the latter ordered a bottle of southern Galbadian tequila. Normally, Rinoa couldn't even handle a third glass of red wine. Selphie tried taking it away, but Rinoa threatened to cut one of the shoulder straps of her dress with a Firaga blast if she insisted.

Now, two hours later, a duo of good-looking basketball players had approached the two youthful and perceivably unassuming ladies whom they failed to recognize as SeeDs. Selphie, in the way of a natural reaction, smiled at the two while preparing to tell them that theirs was a private party, and therefore they were not welcoming gatecrashers. She fully expected Rinoa to do the same thing. But to her utter surprise, Rinoa invited the two hunks to join them. Selphie glared at her.

"I really don't think this is such a good idea."

"Come on, Sef," Rinoa grinned. "Since when did you become such a killjoy? I asked you to join me in having fun, so that's exactly what we're gonna do."

Her mouth opened, but no words came out of it as Selphie thought it would be futile to try and talk reason to Rinoa. She knew exactly what her friend was doing.

Rinoa was trying to get back at Squall.

"Shoot…" Selphie muttered when the dark-haired basketball player placed his arms over Rinoa's shoulders, with the latter seemingly having no intent on resisting. The other one tried to talk cute to her by describing his latest exploits in the game. Under normal situations, Selphie would have entertained the guy just enough to keep him from feeling dissed while she maintained a safe distance. That had always been her character, a socially adept individual who always managed to make everyone feel welcome without looking like a flirt.

But given the current situation, she just didn't feel too accommodating. It was a good thing the red-haired athlete was such a blowhole, or he would have noticed that he wasn't eliciting anything from Selphie but bored scoffs and one-word replies.

The next time Selphie looked, Rinoa was already making out with the other guy.

"RINOA?!?"

The two were startled by Selphie's remark, almost pushing each other to the floor. As she recovered, Rinoa glared at Selphie with annoyed eyes. But the Trabian was no longer intimidated by the sorceress' bullying. Selphie immediately took hold of Rinoa's arms and pulled her into a corner.

"What do you think you're doing?" Selphie exclaimed.

"What's your problem?" Rinoa shot back. "If you don't like what I'm doing, then take the keys and drive yourself back to Garden. I don't need a party pooper like you telling me what I can and cannot do."

"This is not about me telling you what to do. This is about you doing something stupid. I know Squall did a very terrible thing when he cheated on you. If it happened to me, I'd probably be a lot more furious. But…" Selphie hesitated, briefly pondering on what to say next. "… Two wrongs do not make a right. You can't match him eye for an eye without doing something that you'll regret afterwards."

"You're telling me! Who spent the night with Quistis? Why don't you try to make your speech count by telling them that?"

"But you're about to do the same thing, Rinny! You're about to do something that'll make you no different from them."

"I am different from them! I'm not some bitch who sleeps around with her friend's boyfriend or some bastard who thinks I love him so much that I'd let every damn thing slide just like that. I'm not a martyr, Selphie. Squall had been using that ridiculous attitude of his as an excuse to take me for granted at every turn. Don't you think I see it? I do. But I love him so much I tolerated everything by telling myself that he's been like that from the start. And because I love him, I should accept him for what he is. That's exactly what I did, didn't I?"

"Pipe down."

"I'M the good guy here, Selphie. Don't bark at me like it's the other way around."

There was fear in Selphie's answer. "It WILL be the other way around if you continue with this crap you're doing!"

Rinoa recognized the pitch in the Trabian's voice, prompting her to pause for a few moments as she tried to deliberate whether to dismiss Selphie's implications or substantiate them, if only to give her a bad news that she can deliver Squall.

"Why? What do you think I'm gonna do next?"

"I hope to Hyne I'm wrong… I really do." Selphie stuttered. "I… I hope you're not thinking of doing what I think you are."

Rinoa knew exactly what Selphie was alluding to: sleep with that guy just to get back at Squall. Deep inside, she found the idea utterly revolting. She'd never do something like that if she had half her right mind.

But then, she thought, one can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.

She swallowed hard before talking again. "S-so what? What if I do it? It's not like it's the first time I'm gonna have sex with a guy I've just met."

Selphie glared at her with intense, questioning eyes.

"Oh yeah, I haven't told you yet, have I? But don't sweat it. I'm only talking about Seifer."

"Seifer?"

"Yeah. The night we first met in Deling City, more than three years ago. That's actually how it all started for us."

Selphie's face flushed upon hearing the revelation. Not that it was such a big deal, but she just didn't expect Rinoa's first encounter with Seifer to be that injudicious. No wonder she didn't have enough time to learn about the lesser aspects of his personality.

"But that's different. You weren't with anyone else during that time."

"I'm not with anyone today. I've already broken up with Squall, so I can do whatever I want."

"No! Rinoa, think about what you're saying? I don't give a hoot's ass about your stupid technicalities. Right now, you love Squall. Whether you admit it or not, you still love him more than anything else, in spite of what he did to you. So don't give me all this baloney about you not being with anyone today because we both know that that's nothing but a stinking excuse! You're having revenge on Squall because he cheated on you. Fine, do it at someone else's expense. But not your own, Rinoa. Not like this. Don't destroy yourself just because the man you love didn't know better than to betray you."

Selphie's words seemed to have jarred some sense into Rinoa's clouded mind. It was true, she still loved Squall with all her heart. But that was the very thing that had been causing her pain. She loved him, wholly and sacrificially.

And he paid her back by getting in bed with another woman.

Rinoa's tears threatened to fall anew. In her mind, what Selphie said wasn't true. She wasn't trying to destroy herself. Squall had already destroyed her trust and her heart. He had already destroyed her hope. And whatever was left of her didn't amount to much anymore. Whatever she was about to do to herself, Squall had already done to her.

And she wanted to make sure than Squall will feel the pain he had inflicted on her.

Regrettably, Rinoa shook her head. "Sorry, Sef," she said softly, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. Rinoa then tried to feign an unaffected look. "Hey, don't worry about me. I just wanna have some fun. Get away from it all. You certainly can't blame me for that, can you?"

_No, I can't._ Selphie thought morosely as she watched Rinoa walking back to their table. The two basketball players immediately stood up in courtesy, then flanked her with both of them resting their hands behind her back. Selphie just stood there, watching Rinoa, as though she was marching towards a cliff. Yes, she could no longer blame Rinoa for what she was about to do. She was hurting badly. Truthfully, Selphie wasn't sure if she wouldn't be worse off had the same thing happened to her. And she was fearful of what Irvine might do in the event he learned about her and Zell.

_I don't belong here, _Selphie glumly thought, feeling that she didn't deserve to be the one to console Rinoa when she had committed the same transgression Quistis and Squall had. What comfort could she offer when she couldn't possibly condemn an act that she herself was guilty of? Nothing. She couldn't offer anything. She couldn't even do anything for fear that if she did try to be more assertive, Rinoa might just throw everything back and call her a hypocrite. And Rinoa would be right, of course.

Right now, all she could manage was to feel sorry for her lost friend, pity her. And when Selphie's fears reached full fruition, mourn for her as well.

Mourn for them both.

The red-haired guy stood up and waved at Selphie, after which he departed and left the two on the table. He must have thought he wouldn't go anywhere if he tried his luck on her. Sensible guy, Selphie thought.

He wished he could say the same for the dark-haired one that kept Rinoa company. Not long after, Selphie bit her lips when the two of them stood up. Rinoa turned to her and nonchalantly pointed towards the car keys lying on the table. Selphie read her lips.

_Take the car._

----------

Two hours past midnight, and Squall couldn't sleep.

It had been a long time since he went to bed in his favorite casual attire composed of black leather, white shirt, crimson ammunition belt and heavy combat footgear. And usually, it only happened whenever something troubled him deeply. And it had been a long time since something did trouble him deeply.

But compared to the current tidings, those occasions were nothing more than puddles on the street after an April rain compared to Obel Lake.

He never really expected something like this to happen. Yes, he may have had bouts of insecurity from time to time, but not anything that remotely suggested he would actually lose Rinoa. He had never considered the possibility, probably because he really didn't know of anything that could threaten their relationship. Despite himself, Squall knew that he and Rinoa were strong in each other.

Of course, a single night of unfaithfulness had changed it all. Unfaithfulness always did that.

Squall was in the middle of an emotional tug-of-war as he wasn't sure whether to feel disturbed or brokenhearted. Someone had told him that Rinoa and Selphie took off for Balamb. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have bothered him. It wasn't the first time she went to town with the girls.

But this was different.

And right now, his heart was torn between brokenness out of pity for his beloved, and jealousy born out of paranoia. Squall knew how much Rinoa loved him. But he also knew that she had never been averse to being very friendly with other men. This fact had already pushed him to irrational reactions before. What started all these in the first place? The Garden Festival preparations nine months ago, when after rehearsing her 'Eyes On Me' number, Rinoa was trapped in a sea of admirers whose appreciation for her just went up ten points after they heard how good a singer she really was. It was almost eerie, especially for the more superstitious bunch that believed she was in fact the reincarnation of her late mother, the immensely popular Julia Heartilly.

The princess must have been caught up by the sudden surge of her popularity, for in Squall's eyes Rinoa crassly ignored her that day in favor of attending to her as-suddenly legion of guy friends and fans. Infuriated, he drove to Balamb and drank himself nearly to death. Quistis saw him, and pulled him into a hotel. And then… well…

----------

Author's Note: _**The Remembrance**_

----------

Squall lashed at himself. He really should stop overreacting, especially now that it had already resulted into something disastrous. If only…

Another attack of regret. If he only had gotten a hold of himself, none of these would have happened. If he had only been levelheaded enough to know that he really had nothing to be insecure about outside of Rinoa's natural penchant to flaunt her popularity and befriend more guys than girls. Her history was an open book to him. Zone and Watts. Zell and Irvine. And even Daryll Nedding, whose obsession with her rivaled Marcus Derlini's for Quistis.

And this worried him. If Rinoa had always been inclined to be close to guys under normal situations, to what extents would his unfaithfulness push her?

If Rinoa had a grave enough reason, could she actually be capable of doing something like that?

The realization that he really didn't know terrified him. Squall had always focused on the black ink blot over the rest of the white sheet of paper. This time, there was no white portion left. He was looking at a black construction paper with no white blot.

And right now, his tiny ray of hope lay in the fact that Selphie was with Rinoa.

----------

Two hours past midnight, and Selphie was wide awake. Which was a good thing, because she was driving.

So this was how it felt to drive alone? She had never done this before, especially in the dead of night. There hadn't been any occasion anyway that called for this. Selphie had never gone outside of Garden without at least Irvine, Quistis or Rinoa tagging alone. Like in all other things, Selphie hated being alone. She thrived best when surrounded by her friends. And cruising along the highway either for business or pleasure had not been an exception.

Not that she was really alone today. Rinoa sat beside her quietly, her eyes trained outside the unlit surroundings, seemingly admiring the unusually lush forest of stars clinging along the dark face of the night sky.

Ever since leaving Balamb half an hour ago, neither of them had said anything to each other. They simply didn't feel like talking, especially after the argument they had in the pub that ended in a bad note when Rinoa completely ignored Selphie's warning and continued being kissy with that guy whose name she had already forgotten.

Selphie had a scowl on her face when they left the pub. Never in her imagination did she believe that Rinoa could do something like that to her. Vainly insisting that she just wanted to have fun, Rinoa surprised Selphie when she left her behind in the pub to go with that dark-haired basketball player she met. _Friends don't do that to each other!_ Selphie had wanted to shout in Rinoa's face when she came back twenty minutes later. And she would have, but she had far more pressing concerns.

Rinoa actually went with that guy, and they were gone for twenty minutes. At least her watch said twenty minutes. Selphie felt as though Rinoa was gone for a million years.

Twenty minutes! A lot of things can happen in twenty minutes!

What was she thinking?

What did she do?

Selphie was too terrified to ask. Did Rinoa actually do it? How could she deal with something like this?

She couldn't. It was one thing for a friend of hers to innocently clue her in on a hot one-night stand just because it was her first time. It was another for one to intentionally do it, even if it went against everything she believed in, just to get back at someone who hurt her the same way.

But was Rinoa actually capable of such a thing? Selphie looked at her and pondered. Rinoa had to be one of the sweetest souls she had ever met. She was kind, friendly, compassionate, generous and warm to people, and also especially loving to those close to her. Selphie was one of them. She had been witness to Rinoa's kind and loving heart, to both her friends and the love of her life, Squall. Selphie could still remember the sparkle in Rinoa's eyes when someone first mentioned the word 'marriage' to them. It was clear that she was expecting, and that there was nothing more she'd want in her life than to spend it with Squall.

So, was Rinoa capable of… 'doing it' with another guy just to have revenge on Squall?

The answer, she was afraid, was yes. Selphie hated the thought, but she just couldn't shake off that conviction. Rinoa loved Squall with all of her heart, so much that she hardly left anything in her that she didn't share with him. Selphie knew that though Rinoa was capable of conducting herself, her life had really been devoted solely to Squall. One would think Rinoa went too fast and too impetuously. But no one really did. They also knew Squall. And even despite his incorrigible need to make others feel unwanted no matter how well they knew that it was only a facade, everyone was aware of this love he had been lavishing Rinoa with. Some may have seen it, most certainly did not, but all were convinced of what was happening behind closed doors. No one could be more perfect together.

Then the ugly head of betrayal and infidelity reared its head, and turned an expectant angel into a cheated devil. Was Rinoa capable of doing such a thing? Given a grave enough situation, yes.

Selphie bit her lips upon realizing that. The same way she bit her lips while watching Rinoa walking back into the pub, twenty minutes after she went out with the basketball player. Her hair and clothes were neat as ever, suggesting that they had been straightened up very recently. Her face was calm. But it was also flushed, as though she was catching a fever. And right before they left Garden, she was wearing a light shade of red on her lips. It was obviously retouched when she came back.

"goodness…" Selphie could only mutter. And that was the last word either of them had spoken until now. There was almost no doubt in Selphie's mind that Rinoa had done what she was afraid she'd do. The silence in her form was almost a giveaway. Why was Rinoa not speaking? How was she feeling? Guilty? Filthy? Like a bitch? Like a pig?

Finally, Selphie decided to break the ice.

"I'm so sorry it had to be this way, Rinny," she said. Her face was straight, but melancholy was in her voice. "You know that I'm strongly against what you did, but…"

Rinoa looked at Selphie with an equally straight face.

"We can't do anything about it. It's done. But… even though I don't agree with what you did, I just wanna tell you that I'm your friend and whatever happens, I'll always be here for you."

Selphie meant every word, but the timing of her words was a ruse. The truth was, she was still a little mad at Rinoa for what she did, and she wanted to hear the girl at the least feeling sorry for what she did. Even if she had no intention of apologizing to Squall, Selphie wanted Rinoa to at least feel that she owed herself an apology. And maybe if she could offer a word of solace, it might spur Rinoa to regret her actions. That, or it could start another argument. Selphie just wanted so badly to give Rinoa the treatment for what she had done.

But instead, to Selphie's surprise, Rinoa just scoffed.

"Hmph…"

Selphie shook her head. Rinoa was still too angry to feel repentant.

She didn't hear the princess mumble as the latter looked back out the window.

"gutless… too damn gutless…"

----------

His heart was racing faster than his feet could keep up as he frantically traversed the crowded circular hallway separating the dormitory from the central elevator. And every once in a while, Squall had to side step to avoid a student walking in his direction or standing on his way. He continued to run, seemingly unmindful of the throng that was gawking at him. Right now, he didn't care about anything else. Right now, the only thing that was in his mind was Selphie knocking on his door with a message that nearly propelled his heart up his throat.

Squall's rapid footsteps became lost in the din of his heart's thumping sounds. Less than a minute ago, he opened the door to a dejected-looking Selphie, whose reddened eyes suggested that she too had stayed up all night. Squall's first reaction was to ask her where she and Rinoa went the night before. But seeing the usually vivacious lass in that state, he contented himself with the message that she gave him before nonchalantly walking away.

"_Um… Rinny wants to talk to you. She's at the gala room, by the porch."_

Rinoa's favorite spot, he thought. Hearing the message made his heart leap in excitement and anticipation. Rinoa wanted to speak to him. Why? Could it be that she had thought things over and decided that they were all simply victims of a cruel twist of fate? Could it be that she had weighed everything and came to a conclusion that people commit mistakes, but should not be held accountable for them as long as they never happened again?

He wanted so badly to hear all these things from Rinoa. He longed desperately to see her, fall down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. Then Rinoa, with tear-drenched eyes, would hold him by the hands, pick him up, and tell him that they were going to start from a clean slate. Balamb Garden whizzed past him like a blur, with Squall's senses blocking them all out while he concentrated on hoping the one thing he had been desperately yearning for since yesterday's tumultuous events.

Rinoa's forgiveness.

Unwittingly, Squall recalled the sadness in Selphie's face. They suggested that things might not be as he was hoping them to be. Squall shut his eyes tight. No! It had to be that. What other reason could Rinoa have for wanting to talk to him? If she were still mad, she'd simply disappear from his sight. That had always been Rinoa's way from the start.

No. She wanted to talk to him to… tell her that she had already forgiven him. All she needed to hear from him was the promise that his mistake will never happen again. Of course, Squall resolved. It would never happen again. He loved Rinoa too much to commit the same, dreadful mistake. He'd rather be shot in the head than fall in that same pit again. Never again.

From making the sound of beating drums, Squall's frenzied heart began thundering like a gong repeatedly being struck by a war hammer as he made his final approach towards the gala room porch. He stopped just short of the doorway, beholding Rinoa's lovely form, with her black hair being blown about by the cool, morning breeze.

Squall remembered that moment two years ago, when he thought he had never seen a more breathtaking sight in his life as he approached her from behind. Completely unmindful of the party being held inside, Squall occupied a spot right next to Rinoa, leaning his hands on the stony rail as his eyes followed the same falling star that she observed with open-mouth awe. He then looked at her, and the sweet smile on her face elicited a rare smile from his own. She held a finger up, and he could do nothing less but to oblige.

Squall and Rinoa kissed for the first time on that night.

Was that it? Squall asked himself. Was this Rinoa's idea of symbolism, of an appropriate point for the two of them to start anew?

_Dammit…_ Squall shook his head. Too bloody melodramatic. _Just keep hoping, Squall_. Things would never be that simple, considering the gravity of the situation. He knew that he'd probably go through the eye of the needle just to win her back. But Squall didn't mind. At least, he got the chance to talk to her today. He'd make everything right. If he needed to, he'd fall on his knees to get her back.

"H-Hi," he reluctantly said.

Squall didn't know what kind of facial expression he'd project. He didn't want to look too forlorn as though he was intentionally begging for her pity. On the other hand, he also became cautious of looking too smug. In the end, he just allowed his emotions to well up from his face. When Rinoa turned towards him, Squall accorded her eagerly with those longing, puppy dog eyes. He had never been happier – and more uneasy – to see her.

However, his hope was partially doused by cold water upon beholding Rinoa's blank expression. Squall tried to remain calm. Why was she looking at him as though she hardly knew him at all?

Finally, amidst the booming echoes of Squall's anxious heart, Rinoa spoke out.

"I have a question for you."

"What is it?" Squall pensively returned. What question? How much he really loved her? He didn't have a poem ready.

Squall paused. A poem? Since when did he turn into a hopeless romantic? What power did Rinoa have over him?

Her voice startled him out of his reverie.

"How many times have you… well… aside from Quistis…" Rinoa stuttered upon the mention of Quistis' name, drawing a quizzical look from Squall.

"Let me rephrase that," she curtly recovered. "Aside from Quistis, how many girls have you gone on one-night stands with?"

_What?_ Squall blurted in his mind_. What kind of question is that?_ He was so stupefied that his eyes couldn't stop glaring aggressively at Rinoa, who was showing an expression of actually waiting for an answer.

"Well?"

"Why… Why are you asking me that?" Squall stammered back. As he did, he felt the hope inside him starting to erode. The fact that Rinoa was still ranting about his brief interlude with the instructor was not a good sign. And all of the sudden, he grew fearful of what was to come next.

"Well?" Rinoa repeated. Squall looked confused as he shook his head, his face slowly transforming into a grimace.

"Oh, it's a secret," she said with that same, gentle voice. But Squall didn't have to be empathic to detect the sarcasm. When Rinoa spoke again, Squall's chest was already tightening.

"Aren't you going to ask me the same question?"

At that point, everything crumbled for Squall. If he was going to get Rinoa back, it would not be today.

"I'm gonna tell you anyway," Rinoa snapped at him, her voice echoing sarcasm and spiteful, hypocritical cheeriness. "I've gone on one-night stands with two guys already."

Squall felt something ram into his chest.

"The first one, well, you already know who it was. Seifer. But I could hardly call it a one-night stand because for one thing, it led into a relationship. Another point is… well, *tee-hee*, there is no other point."

Rinoa used to be so wary whenever she had to mention Seifer's name in Squall's presence. Not because of their rivalry or the truth that Seifer was the first man in Rinoa's life that had been making Squall feel insecure. The truth was, Squall could hardly care if Seifer came first before him in Rinoa's life. That was part of the natural course of things. But the fact that Rinoa slept with Seifer on the night they first met didn't sit well with Squall. Rinoa made the mistake of making that confession, and it resulted in a span of time wherein Squall became suspicious of her feelings for him. His point: girls didn't normally sleep with a guy on the first date unless they really fell for that guy hard. For a short while after Rinoa told Squall about that, he was worried that Seifer might still have a soft spot in Rinoa's heart.

All of that was, of course, water under the bridge. Squall had already gotten over that short bout with insecurity. But even so, Rinoa should still have known better than to blurt out something that once upon a time had caused Squall to doubt her love for him. That was, unless Rinoa no longer cared.

That last thought terrified Squall.

And when Rinoa continued, he suddenly realized that he was only facing the tip of the iceberg.

"And… um… the second one was last night."

Squall felt an ax crash dead center into his heart.

"But…" Rinoa hesitated. "But not really. Um… it WOULD have been last night. I mean, I met this guy in the bar. He's name's Leary. Leary… can't remember his last name. Basketball player. Anyways, I don't think I've ever seen anyone as gorgeous as that hunk." Her voice had started to rise, as though she had transformed back into a fifteen year old swooning over her crush. "Any girl would have instantly fallen on their knees at the mere sight of him. But among all the girls in the bar last night, he singled me out. Gosh, Leary singled me out! Can you believe that?!?"

Squall's hands had already balled into fists. He now knew why Rinoa called him here.

"And… the reason why I said it would have been last night was, well, we didn't go all the way. We almost did. Hyne knows I wanted to. But no, we didn't go all the way… because I was too damn gutless." Her voices toned down, but remained tense. "And you know why?"

He should have seen this a mile down the road. But Squall's painful longing for Rinoa afforded him to see nothing else.

"Because of this."

Squall saw something in the corner of his eyes. He turned, and saw Rinoa holding out a shimmering platinum ring with a lion engraving that was similar to Squall's. It was the ring that Zell had fashioned after Squall's Griever ring, upon Rinoa's request. It was the ring that symbolized their love for each other.

"I realized that the reason I was so gutless last night was I was still wearing this ring. I don't know, maybe I felt guilty for being with another guy while wearing something that was obviously modeled after one of your stuff. Maybe I'm just being too sentimental. Or maybe I was afraid Griever might suddenly pop out and bite my head off. But the point is…" Rinoa flipped her Griever ring once. "This got in my way last night."

Her voice was now jagged.

"It's obvious you didn't have the same problem when you had sex with Quistis. Or…"

Every word tore through him like a rusted chainsaw.

"Maybe you took it off. Smart move. Stupid…" Rinoa's voice nearly cracked. But she immediately recovered. "Stupid… A drunk couldn't possibly remember to remove a ring – that was exactly the same as his girlfriend's -- before screwing another bitch."

How foolish of Squall to ever expect that she could forgive him.

"WHATEVER," Rinoa sharply exclaimed. "At least this won't have to get in my way again."

No. Rinoa didn't want to do any of that. She called Squall for one purpose and one purpose alone.

To hurt him. The same way he hurt her.

Rinoa closed her fingers around the ring. She then closed her eyes, concentrating to conjure a spell that made her closed hand glow dull orange. Squall was slightly agitated by the heat emanating from her hand. And when he turned again, he saw beads of liquid platinum dripping down from Rinoa's hand.

Squall's jaws dropped, flustered, as he witnessed in shock the thin streams of molten metal trickling down his beloved's hand. Those shimmering drops used to be the ring that symbolized their vow, their oath that they will claim forever while in the confines of each other's arms. The promise of love made in the middle of a flower field was now nothing more than slag. Formless metal that had no power to claim anything.

Thunderstruck, Squall helplessly watched as Rinoa held her hand out the porch and emptied it of all the remaining molten platinum. Her face reeking with contempt, the scorned sorceress then faced her unfaithful knight.

"There," she said with finality. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have the rest of my life to live."

Her life… without him.

And all of the sudden, it all became so clear for Squall.

He longed for forgiveness where there was only hatred. He harbored hope where there was none.

He had lost her. Completely.

Squall was still staring at the doorway long after Rinoa had walked out.

----------

He held that sheet of paper as though a Malboro had used it to wipe its mouth. Cid treated the paper as though it was the ugliest, ghastliest thing ever to have existed. But he looked at it anyway. Repeatedly, incessantly.

_Hyne… what's happening to our children?_

He tossed his weary glance across the table, where Edea sat, equally disconsolate. With sad eyes, she simply watched as her husband threw Squall's resignation letter to the trash bin.

**End Of Chapter 15**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"_The top story for tonight. After the incident that nearly resulted in the repeat of the violent events two years ago when late president Vinzer Deling proclaimed Sorceress Edea Kramer to the people of Deling City as Galbadia's new ambassador, controversial Winhill governor Zeilgr Markkon, whose open public attacks against Balamb Garden had been the source of countless controversies, made it clear that he was in no way regretful of the turmoil that he incited. Stressing that it was a call to righteous rebellion, Markkon instead reiterated his demands for incumbent Galbadian commander-in-chief General Richard Caraway to step down from office. News correspondent Carter Dai was at the scene as Governor Markkon led another protest rally in Timber to denounce the presence of Balamb Garden's liaison offices in the city."_

"_Governor Markkon, although it appears you now have the support of a great number of the people of Timber, what can you comment about Governor Ferrin Soxa's denouncement of your actions as criminal on the grounds that you are inciting people to rebel against ruling administrations?"_

"_The subject is simplicity in itself. The mandate of the people is clearly violated by Governor Soxa when she openly targeted my activities. She should realize that while she accused me of insurrection, she herself was going against the people by rejecting the very precepts that I'm upholding."_

"_But you are violating Timber's laws against unsanctioned demonstrations and protest movements. Aren't you worried of being arrested? We've just heard news that the Timber police have dispatched squads with direct orders to arrest you."_

"_Be realistic, my boy. Do you really believe the police will risk arresting me, now, when the people has just been enlightened to the truth of the kind of atrocity Ferrin Soxa is committing against her own people? Look around you. If the police so much as lift a finger against me, they will answer to the people. I'm sure Madam Soxa would not want that kind of violence in her hands."_

"_You mentioned Governor Soxa's acts of atrocity. Could you elaborate on that?"_

"_Certainly. Governor Soxa has openly stated her opposition to my cause. That is the crime she has committed against the people."_

"_You speak as though you actually have the mandate of the people, and you have openly declared that by opposing you, Governor Soxa has made herself a criminal to her own people. But public perception can swing both ways, Governor. Other people have expressed it as nothing more than your words going against hers. Or your credibility against hers. Can you comment on this?"_

"_By opposing me, Governor Soxa did nothing more than undermine her own credibility. As the former leader of the Timber resistance movement Forest Fox, whose close ties with Commander Rinoa Heartilly's Forest Owls was revealed during the last peace summit a few months ago, it is perceivable that Soxa was merely being biased, with her policies none the better. As I have stressed in numerous instances in the past, we cannot, in the name of fair thinking, trust the words of those who in one way or another have established ties with Balamb Garden's leadership. Why do you think the good people of Deling City are now demanding for General Caraway's resignation?"_

"_Some say you merely incited the people in Deling City to go against General Caraway."_

"_Not incited. Enlightened. I opened their eyes to the truth that though General Caraway claimed his desire to mend Galbadia after Vinzer Deling's regime, the truth is in fact far from that. Galbadia has always been hostile against Balamb Garden since it was founded. As a matter of fact, do you know that Balamb Garden and Galbadia Garden have never seen eye to eye? It may not have been manifest, but there was an innate animosity between the two. Most said it was rivalry, but some opined, correctly if I may say so, that the cause burrowed far deeper than that. It was because of Galbadia's hostitliy to SeeD, which was brought about by SeeD's continuous defiance of Galbadian sovereignty."_

"_Are you accusing General Caraway of favoring Balamb Garden?"_

"_Accusing? No. Accusations are only for those who have yet to be proven guilty. Caraway is guilty as sin. He takes the helm of Galbadia for the main purpose of making the world a safe place for Balamb Garden and SeeD. All because of his daughter, Rinoa. All of his activities, from ordering Garden's Galbadian outposts as no-fly-zones to approving the Garden Provision Act with President Loire of Esthar are for his daughter, Rinoa. Which isn't really a bad thing. The father loves his daughter, and therefore is thinking of her well-being. But in the process, he has put his interest over that of his county's. We don't need a leader like that."_

"_Wait, Governor, you said President Loire. Now that you mentioned it, Esthar doesn't seem to see it that way despite your best efforts. Based on latest polling activities, President Loire's approval ratings are still way above the seventies despite the pocket opposition movements that have been appearing here and there during the last couple of weeks."_

"_Esthar has wallowed under xenophobic policies during the last two decades prior to their reemergence to the world scene two years ago. As such, they hardly know anything outside of Loire's governance, making it safe to say that they have been practically brainwashed by the years of his arrogantly imposed national stasis. But the fact that there have been sporadic manifestations of the people's resistance is sign enough that Esthar is not beyond hope. If they know what's good for them, the people of Esthar should take after these pocket oppositions._

"_Aren't you being a little too grandiloquent to insist that your way is right?"_

"_This is not arrogance, my opinionated friend. This is conviction. And do not mock me by using words the common folks are unfamiliar with."_

"… _Um, thank you, Governor. This has been Carter Dai of the Galbadian News Network, live from Timber."_

Quistis almost laughed at the comic expression written on Carter Dai's face after Zeilgr Markkon crassly turned his back on the reporter. In most situations, she believed that some overly persistent reporters deserved that kind of treatment since for her, they had to have been the most intrusive, obnoxious and annoying people the professional society had ever produced. Given that they were merely doing their jobs and that the world wouldn't know what was going on if not for them, she still found most of them annoying at the least. There was a huge difference between keeping the world updated with current events and spilling the beans on a person's private life, no matter how famous that person may be. But the word 'privacy' simply didn't exist in the minds of these people.

And for people who supposedly made a living from crafting words, they had seemingly taken every other word for granted, save one. Ratings. Whatever they can do for ratings they will do, even and often at the expense of unsuspecting people. And often, they brandished the freedom of the press as a weapon of abuse to get what they wanted. Quistis would have liked them to try it on her, if only to see how deep she can shove this freedom of the press crap up their behinds.

The way she believed it, one cannot respect another person's right to privacy enough. She wasn't much of a prude when it came to this, since being a celebrated SeeD had placed her on a pedestal slightly higher than those of the most popular movie stars, as evidenced by her answering machine back in Garden being normally crammed by calls from magazine columnists, modeling agencies and film producers. Described as a veritable silver screen goddess misplaced in a military academy, Quistis had actually indulged herself on a few endorsement contracts that resulted in fledgling consumer companies suddenly rocketing to the Wall Market Top 10 and the Malboro being added to the endangered species list. Not to mention fattening her bank account to the point where she didn't have to do a lick of work for the rest of her life and still live lavishly. Like a queen, perhaps?

Basketball stars and tennis femme fatales could learn a thing or two from her.

Being one of the world's most successful product endorsers had served her very little until this time. For one thing, it only denied her the privacy she had longed for, the privacy she and her friends had effectively lost since defeating Ultimecia. Although now, she had finally found worth in the loads of money she had earned from commercial modeling, and that was for supporting herself in her tightly contained exile.

In a way, her self-imposed exile had given her the privacy she had sought since the last Sorceress War ended. And not only did she want it. Now, with her present condition, she had come to need privacy more than she ever did. Quistis couldn't begin to think about the consequences if the world discovered her pregnancy. People would surely talk about it. Women who admired her would feel pity. Those who bitterly envied her would feel vindicated. Evil queens who owned mirrors on walls would call off their huntsmen. And men would either want to strangle the one who got her pregnant or simply die of jealousy.

Ultimately, she didn't care about all that. But if the world were to discover, that would certainly mean Balamb Garden would, too. And that also meant Rinoa knowing as well.

Quistis again became apprehensive, training her thoughts a few days back when Squall told her that he'd take the chance of being honest to Rinoa. He hadn't called back since, leaving her to wonder what had happened. Had Squall really decided to come clean? Had he already told Rinoa? Could Rinoa now be burning in hatred for her?

She shook her head, as though striving to rid herself of the thought. The TV aided her effort by blaring out profanities bellowed by the provoked Timber protest mob.

"_Kill the &*)%# ^%** interlopers! Long live Governor Markkon!"_

"ohmigod…"

They all seemed to have come out of nowhere. And in the blink of an eye, Timber's main Garden outpost was surrounded by the angry mob that seemed enthralled by some wicked voice. Brandishing guns, clubs, chains, swords, pipe wrenches and anything else they could get their hands on, the violent protesters began closing into the outpost just as a hovering news craft circled around to give the former instructor a horrible view of the besieged liaison base. The cameraman zoomed in, making visible a group of frightened SeeDs gathering on the rooftop with what looked like heavy automatic firearms.

"No! Oh my goodness, guys! Don't do it!"

The knowledge that they had most likely loaded the guns with rubber bullets didn't quell Quistis' fear any. Though Garden had hardly considered this possibility, Cid nevertheless thought it best to be prepared just in case. As such, each Garden outpost had its own small arsenal of heavy firearms and rubber ammunition, all of which had not been put to use yet. She feared this might turn out to be the first time.

The SeeDs looked terrified as the mob closed in on the outpost. Quistis was besieged with a cacophony of emotions, ranging from fear and pity to anger and vengefulness. What were these people doing? SeeD hadn't done them any wrong.

Only one word came to mind. _Markkon._

Quistis could kill him for this. Never mind the pleasant time she had shared with him and his late family in their mansion in Winhill one year ago. This was clearly an act of war, and Markkon had openly and defiantly declared war against Balamb Garden. What else should a good soldier like her do but to protect her home? And though it didn't please her, one of the ways to do that was to kill the enemy.

But she knew she shouldn't. Not only because it would only put Garden in the worst light of public perception, but more so because she was too smart to believe that Markkon didn't have a hidden agenda. Ever since Markkon's first venomous speech a few weeks ago, Quistis had been following his every move and charting all of them. Being Garden's most brilliant detective, it didn't have to take much for her to sense the calculating nature of his activities. Quistis was almost sure that Markkon was plotting something against Garden. She still had no idea what it was, but she knew it was there. Ultimately, it would be more useful to let Markkon live.

For now.

For now, her immediate concern was the SeeDs trapped on the Outpost's rooftop. Not that she thought they were in real danger. SeeDs were supposed to be trained to handle situations like this. These ones must have been rookies, for she knew they weren't SeeDs yet when she left Garden. And being rookies, they instinctively went for the guns, committing the common rookie mistake of underestimating the Water spell. But more importantly, as rookies they didn't know what kind of image they'd be projecting by opening fire on civilian demonstrators even with rubber bullets. Others may not see so clearly, but not Quistis. She knew that this was what Markkon was hoping for. She knew that he was counting on the roving reporters to catch the rookie SeeDs in the act of using guns against ordinary citizens.

After this, Markkon would show the world a glaring scene, of SeeDs attacking defenseless civilians with automatic firearms. He had notably disappeared from the demonstration. But wherever he was, Markkon must have been grinning from ear to ear by now.

She had to stop them. But how?

"Oh no!"

Staccato thunderclaps pierced through the TV's speakers as the screen showed the SeeDs finally unloading warning shots in an effort to scare off the crazed mob. Quistis winced. They were pointing their guns in the air, but it would hardly make a difference considering Markkon's skill in manufacturing and manipulating half-truths. She knew dreadfully that Markkon had won this round.

SeeD: 0, Markkon: 1

The subsequent scene of anti-riot policemen on fire trucks dispersing the crowd didn't quell her trepidation any. Quistis could only sink on the sofa, troubled and exhausted from what she had seen. How was Garden going to explain this to the world?

Her left hand unwittingly rested on her bulging stomach.

_Kayla, I'm so sorry… that I have to bring you out into this cesspool…_

Her reverie was broken by faint knocking sounds coming from the door. Quistis wondered silently. Who could be dropping by at this time of the night? Edging forward with the slow pace her pregnancy had limited her to, the former instructor reached for the door.

"S-Squall…?"

"H-Hi, Quisty," he stammered back, his voice quivering from the cold.

Immediately, Quistis stepped aside to let him in. But Squall remained motionless, and said only one thing.

"I've lost her, Quisty. I've lost her for good."

* * *

"I could kill him," Zell muttered under his breath. "I could kill him for this."

Standing behind him, the benevolent Martha Deen-Stuart watched in silence as the young SeeD trained his eyes outward. Her house was merely a few blocks away from Timber's main Garden outpost, where currently a big squad of anti-riot policemen was utilizing fire trucks and truncheons in dispersing the protestors laying siege on the outpost. She tried not to focus her attention to the appalling mayhem, concentrating instead on the young warrior before her.

Martha was both astounded and beleaguered. She was surprised by the way Zell had been conducting himself in the midst of this crisis. She had always known him as the brash and impetuous youngster who couldn't keep his mouth and fists steady for more than ten seconds, usually reacting faster than he could think things over. Under normal situations, Zell would either be cussing loudly or pounding on the floor by now. She was aware of how furious he had been feeling at the sight of his fellow SeeDs threatened by an angry and clueless lynch mob that didn't know better than to listen to the malicious ranting of a vindictive Winhill governor.

And the fact that he was being kept from taking action must have been intensifying Zell's anger. Right after the siege started, his communicator echoed a direct command from Headmaster Cid for SeeDs to refrain from taking action, assuring them at the same time that the government of Timber would take care of the situation. Martha surmised that the command must have been for everyone since Iris' communicator also gave out the same directive.

If she had only been conscious to hear it.

And that had been causing Martha to feel frazzled at the same time. The sight of his comrades under fire came at the middle of Zell's own personal crisis. He had enough on his shoulders to worry about. But the elder woman knew him better than that. If there was one thing with Zell that rivaled his fiery attitude, it was his unquestionable loyalty to Balamb Garden. Zell Dincht was one of Garden's foremost warriors, with a ferocity in battle that knew little peer. But that ferocity had been known to increase ten-fold whenever Garden or his comrades were threatened with direct peril. He always took it personally whenever anyone of his schoolmates was in danger. Even if it was Seifer, as evidenced by Zell's affected reaction when he heard that Seifer was to be executed for the crime of assaulting Vinzer Deling two years ago. _"He's one of us,"_ Zell had said then. It didn't matter if Seifer was the Lord of the Jerks. As with anyone else in Garden, attacking one was tantamount to taking them all on.

All of these only served to double her worries. And Martha wondered if Zell's unusual silence was a result of his trek to maturity, or if he was so angry he couldn't find any viable means to channel his feelings. In the latter case, Zell may have just turned into a walking time bomb, one that no other would want to be within a mile of. He could explode at any time.

Martha wondered if it was a good thing or not. But when it finally happened, Zeilgr Markkon wouldn't want to be anywhere within the same planet as Zell. Enraged, he'd been known to mystically tap power reserves that enabled him to circumnavigate the world just to build enough momentum.

Unknown to her, Zell's hatred for the governor dug a lot deeper than that.

"I wish I could just kill him…"

But he knew he couldn't.

* * *

His hands felt prickly while setting the microwave communicator on the desk. Making it worse, his head started to throb viciously with what he thought as the mother of all headaches. If there was one thing that Cid hated, it was the implication of leaving his charges undefended. It had never been easy to tell SeeDs that they couldn't take action even in the face of mortal danger. Fortunately, he didn't have to do that often. But it gave him a headache whenever he did.

"Everything's breaking down so fast, I don't know if I can keep up."

Edea looked at him sympathetically. She wished she could do more for her husband right now other than offer gentle hands to soothe his troubled soul. But even if she couldn't, the kind Matron was soothed herself while hearing Cid's relieved groan as her fingers tenderly pressed against his temples, circling forward to his forehead before concentrating around his eyebrows and nose bridge. Even after all these years, Edea still did the best head massage in the planet.

"Hey, don't worry. I know it looks grim but I'll help you."

"Edea…" he said, turning the swivel chair around to face her. "You've always been here for me, and I appreciate that. But… you do know things have never looked this bleak before."

"Not really," she replied. "The worst thing that could possibly happen to us already happened, and we still came through in one piece." Her voice emphasized the phrase 'in one piece' with overflowing gratitude. And it didn't escape Cid's notice.

"Now you're not going to start with that again, are you?" he came back, firmly but lovingly. "How many times do I have to tell you that you're not at fault? Ultimecia had you enthralled when it happened. There's nothing to feel sorry about as far as I'm concerned."

"I know. But still…" Edea trailed, her face contorting in a mild grimace. "The filthy feeling sometimes comes back. And until now I don't know how it happened. Ultimecia was evil incarnate, but her pride was also beyond words. I can't figure out why anyone of her stature would… surrender herself like that to that tyrant. Not that I care but… she was using my…"

"We've been through this before," he cut her off. No matter how vehemently Cid insisted on not holding her responsible, the thought of his wife with another man was still excruciating, even if she was being possessed. "The reason why Ultimecia did that was your resistance. She knew she could only suppress your will for so long so she tried to break it by… She was trying to break your will."

"Was she?" Edea shot back. "Didn't you even consider that despite all those powers, Ultimecia was just a lonely woman who also had human needs?"

"Does it matter?" he said. "No, it doesn't. What matters is she's dead, and she could not bother us anymore."

"No, Cid. She's not dead. She isn't even alive yet. And whether we like it or not, Ultimecia stands in the way of the future. Someday, the same carnage will repeat itself all over again. She will rise to power and terrorize the world. And then she will once again attempt to destroy everything by compressing time."

"And our SeeDs will be there at every turn to thwart her. They always have, and they always will. No matter what she does across time, SeeD will be with her every step of the way."

That seemed to have comforted Edea, with her head steadily nodding in agreement. They both turned their attentions back to the TV screen.

"But if SeeDs would be in any shape to take on Ultimecia again, we have to first make sure that they survive this latest crisis. Cid, I know it's bad politics for SeeDs to strike back at anyone who assaults them, since we're both convinced that there's an unseen enemy working in the shadows. But if this continues…"

"I know. That's why I'm recalling them all. We're abandoning the outposts."

"And let Markkon win?"

Cid scowled, the thought leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "Yes, we let him win this round. We don't have a choice. But this could be the wisest move we'll ever make considering the circumstances. Let's call back our troops and live to fight another day. We have some planning to do."

"I thought Richard and Laguna ordered Garden to stay out of Markkon's way."

"They did. They told _Garden_ not to get involved. But it'll be a cold day in hell before those two upstarts start ordering the two of us around."

Edea's eyes glittered. She liked what her husband suggested.

"Cid, a day with you is truly never dull."

* * *

At least she was smiling, he thought. These days, seeing someone smile in the midst of all the turmoil was becoming a rarity. With Markkon shaking the very foundation of Garden from his podium, everyone seemed to have lost the verve that normally characterized the sweet and light school atmosphere that permeated throughout the entire institution. Things had turned so bad that he thought even Selphie seldom smiled now. Remembering a case file he studied, Irvine jokingly wished that the Sekujamecians were still around.

He felt as though he had swallowed a bitter pill. This wasn't the time to be funny. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

But he sure loved Edea's smile. He always had. Irvine wondered what Cid said to make her smile like that.

He was previously planning on seeing their two surrogate parents to ask for information regarding General Caraway and Zeilgr Markkon. Having just arrived from Winhill where he spent the last few days circling the governor's mansion while unintentionally observing the new military academy called the Citadel, Irvine wasn't exactly in his best form right now. He was hungry for having eaten only twice, and a shower he hadn't gotten since leaving Zell's house just prior to his 'chance' meeting with Markkon. He asked himself if this was the best time to talk to Cid and Edea.

Not that he was concerned about how he looked, or smelled. He usually was, but not now. There were so many things going around on pogo sticks with sharp spikes inside his head, and each concept and question that formed gave him a sharp, pricking sensation that he couldn't exorcise no matter how hard he tried. He didn't know if it was heatstroke, but that was the least of his concerns. He had questions he needed answers for. How well did Cid and Edea know about Markkon or General Caraway? What other things did they know clandestinely? Were they aware of any secret that anyone might have to explain how such an insignificant dog tick like Markkon could manage to gather extremely sensitive information about his past that happened to involve one of the world's most prominent public figures?

But hearing about the numerous bad news frazzled Irvine. Firstly, Timber's apparent attempt to lynch the SeeD liaison contingent there. And secondly, the news about Squall's resignation.

If he weren't already staggered by the discovery of his past, Irvine would have been concerned about the reason why Squall resigned. He heard it had something to do with Rinoa, and that the two of them had broken up.

Squall and Rinoa broke up? What could be so apocalyptically terrible as to cause that to happen?

All of the sudden, Irvine realized that he couldn't just ignore the issue. It seemed like an ordinary lover's squabble, and he would have just treated it as such. But then he remembered all the things he had discovered… And because of all that, what Rinoa had become in his eyes.

Now the question was, should he seek her out and ask her what happened? He was expected to do so. He was, after all, one of her closest friends.

No, he was more than that. But the thought was so new to him it still felt alien. And even if it weren't, how in the world would he explain it to her? Should he explain it to her in the first place?

Irvine was already inside his bathroom and he was still asking these questions. And each one that repeatedly assaulted his mind like a barbarian's battering ram chipped away the comfort that the hot shower normally provided. The water felt warm and soothing to the touch, refreshing his sweat-caked skin with its crisp rush. But the calming effect that usually accompanied it was denied him this time. It didn't relieve him of the immense weight that was pressing against his chest.

It took nearly an hour before Irvine emerged from the shower. He still felt sluggish, with the revelation of his origins pounding on his soul like a merciless demon. Almost desperate, he hoped a nice, long nap would make him feel at least a little better.

But taking a nap was definitely out of the cards.

"R-Rinoa…?"

"Hi, Irvine."

Surprised to see Rinoa sitting at the edge of his bed, Irvine suddenly felt like a thirteen year old in a locker room after a group of squealing schoolgirls barged in. But in retrospect, he knew he normally wouldn't feel this way in a similar situation. A beautiful girl had suddenly entered his room just as he emerged from the shower. It wasn't the first time it happened. And typically, Irvine would see something like this as a thrilling opportunity. He would have been thrilled if this had happened a week ago, though he knew he'd still end up letting Rinoa walk away without anything happening. He was, after all, Squall's friend. But he still would have been thrilled. At the very least, it would have garnered him a +10 on the manliness scale.

Knowing that he would have thought that way a week ago almost made him throw up. It was really a frigging great thing that Squall was his friend. Or else…

He'd rather not think about it.

Feeling awkward, he adjusted the towel around his waist to make sure it was securely fastened before facing Rinoa.

"Hey…" he said tentatively. "So like, how's it going?"

There was obvious sadness in Rinoa's face, and it was equally evident that she was trying to hide it.

"Oh, just peachy keen," Rinoa forced out. Already knowing what had happened, Irvine thought it best to go straight to the point.

"I… heard about you and Squall. What happened?"

Rinoa turned away. "That… two-timing jerk…" she muttered, her tears nearly welling out.

"'Two-timing'?" Irvine reacted, surprised by the words. "Whoa! Hey, what gives? Are you telling me Squall cheated on you?"

She wanted to lash out as the words exploded in her ears like a concussion grenade. But Rinoa held back, all the while reminding herself vehemently that she had already resolved to steel herself from the hurt. Wiping away the beads around her eyes, she turned to Irvine with a forced smile and tried to act perky.

"I really don't wanna talk about it. Hey, why don't the two of us go out?"

"What? What do you mean go out?"

"Go out. Like, hit the road. Have fun. Paint the town red. Eat, drink and be merry!"

_O-kay…_ Irvine thought, recalling the many times he had seen girls act this way after breaking up with their boyfriends. Rinoa's behavior was classic rebound, picking someone up to get back at Squall for whatever it was he did to her. "Rinoa. I realize you don't want to even think about it for the moment, but what could be so bad that you'd break up with Squall just like that?" he asked, sharing the popular mindset that there was absolutely nothing that could possibly shake their relationship apart.

Irvine half-expected Rinoa to dodge the subject. But instead, she stood up and faced him squarely.

"Sq… that creep slept with someone else."

"What?" he blurted out. _Squall? Sleeping with someone else? Unbelievable!_

His mind was already reeling from the shock. Irvine had always been aware of how much Squall loved Rinoa. Sometimes, he kind of envied his friend's devotion to her. Though he loved Selphie without reservation, Irvine still felt guilty at times because he can't help staring when a cute girl was caught in his line of sight. He was, after all, a ladies' man. But not Squall. _No friggin' way! _ He almost literally only had eyes for her.

The thought of Squall actually sleeping with another woman shocked him. He couldn't believe what he just heard.

"Are you sure?"

"He told me himself," Rinoa answered. There was a marked increase in the way her eyes displayed her anger. "He actually had the nerve to do it and tell me as if I wouldn't mind."

"Oi…" Irvine mumbled, hardly believing what he had heard. And he was almost afraid to ask, but he knew he would eventually so he decided to get it over with. "And who's the girl? Someone we know?"

"Someone _we know_? HA-HA!" Rinoa suddenly exclaimed, though her laughter was bitter and rancid. "That's a good one."

"How come?"

"It's QUISTIS!"

It almost blew his head off. "WHAT?"

"It's Quistis! No bullshit. He slept with that bitch Quistis of all people!"

"…What the…?" the bewildered Irvine mouthed, totally shocked by what he heard. Quistis and Squall? What the hell was happening in the world?

"And you know what's worse than having a boyfriend who slept with Quistis?"

Irvine held his head tight with his hands, as though they were bulldog clamps. He didn't want to hear what Rinoa had to say next. Somehow, he already knew what it was.

"It's having a boyfriend who slept with Quistis and got her pregnant."

He so hated being right.

"… Oh… man the lifeboats…" Irvine groaned, bowing his head. Consequently, he started to feel immense pity for Rinoa. It must have been painful for her, he thought. It would be for anyone. How, he wondered, would he feel should he learn that Selphie had been seeing someone else? He had no idea, but he probably would use up his entire supply of Pulse Ammo.

Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes towards her. Irvine had always hated seeing a girl cheated on. He may have been an expert swinger, but he had never two-timed anyone. At the very least, he respected a girl's right to enjoy the exclusive affection of her boyfriend or husband. Men owed women that much. And hearing his friend running into this terrible misfortune nearly broke his heart.

His friend… his sister.

Whatever she was to him, Rinoa didn't deserve this.

* * *

He slept like a baby. Even as a grown man, he still slept like a baby.

Quistis smiled, surprised that she was still fond of looking at Squall even though her heart already belonged to someone else. Maybe it was true that love still left behind trails of breadcrumbs even after deciding to go. One of the things Quistis had been so thankful about was her freedom from the futile affection she used to be so caught on before meeting Hunter. One year ago, the prospect of spending her life with someone else was close to unthinkable. She hated the fact that her love for Squall wasn't being returned, but still she held on to it for dear life, as though the pain itself was enough recompense for the absence of the warmth that his arms would have provided her. Anything that was associated with Squall, Quistis was willing to content herself with.

Hunter proved it all wrong. Hunter gave her something that she never thought she'd have: freedom from the curse of unrequited love. When he came into her life, she was suddenly enlightened with the truth that no one could possibly be alone for so long, just as long as her quest for true love was pure and selfless. Quistis was happy, even just for a short time. And even though Hunter had already departed, she knew that he will always be in her heart. Even though he was gone, he was still with her. As her lover, best friend, and protector.

But the trails of forgotten affection will always be there, she thought. Even if she wasn't in love with Squall anymore, she knew she would always love him, albeit in a different light. As her friend, or maybe as a younger brother. Quistis scoffed. At least she would no longer look lame in lying, as she had always been a bad liar. At least she'd be telling the truth the next time she was forced to insist on her feelings for him as being sisterly, like what she did back in Trabia two years ago.

Quistis sighed. If she could only do more to alleviate Squall's situation. How he must have been hurting now… even as he slept… she couldn't help feeling her heart break for him. And it was made worse by the fact that she was partly at fault.

She couldn't help looking back to that night, the last time she saw him looking like a baby in his sleep. Quistis couldn't avoid the slew of regrets for letting it happen. Squall wouldn't have been this distraught, Rinoa wouldn't have been heartbroken, and Kayla would have been Hunter's. Or maybe the name would have been Kyle instead?

Quistis remembered when Squall arrived a few hours ago, shivering in the cold but welcoming it as though he was punishing himself. She even had to convince him to come in, and would have just yanked him in if it hadn't been for her sensitive condition. It was good that she usually had hot milk ready during this time of the night. Even though Squall was trying to tough it out, Quistis knew that he needed warmth, and needed it fast. Trabia usually assaulted Dollet with notoriously frigid winds during this time of the year.

He didn't have to talk to tell her what happened. One look into his lost eyes told her everything. But he did talk, and spoke bitterly about the ring that Rinoa melted in her hands. Quistis wouldn't have believed it if Squall hadn't shown her the gold chain that the ring used to adorn as a pendant before Rinoa had it resized to fit her finger. It too had been melted, and nothing was left except a few, nearly blackened links.

"_Some knight I am now…"_ Squall had tried to joke. _"I've just lost my sorceress. Do you think there's a support group for unemployed sorceress' knights?"_

Quistis would have found it amusing under normal situations. Not the joke, but the fact that Squall made one. It would have been funny if it hadn't come from a heart shattered into a million pieces.

Squall hardly talked after that, and he hardly touched the _fettuccine ala buranella_ Quistis had fancied on preparing that night. There was only so much pasta and seafood soaked in melted Mozzarella could do for a guy who had lost the only woman he loved. But he did consume a full bottle of white sauvignon. Quistis felt thankful that there was no hard liquor in the house.

Squall fell asleep on the sofa even before Quistis had the chance to pull out the sleeper underneath it. Up to now she didn't know why she kept that sleeper. Maybe in the back of her mind, she was expecting that someday, she'd be having her friends visit her, though under not so grim a circumstance. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking, a desire in her subconscious that someday all her worries would disappear, and she can finally stand proud before Selphie, Irvine, Zell, Rinoa, Cid, Edea, and everyone else she ever cared for. She knew it wasn't realistic, but even though marginal, the hope of that day kept her from giving up.

Things will turn out for the better, Quistis had always told herself. She was so sure of it that even though she had no idea how it was going to happen, she still held on to that hope.

And if not, she will always have Hunter's memory. And she will always have Kayla. It didn't matter if Squall recognized her or not. Quistis will give Kayla all her love if it was the last thing she did in her life.

She looked at Squall again, and wondered if Kayla would take after him. Quistis scoffed, wishing vehemently that her daughter would never have Squall's hopelessly stoic attitude.

Her hands unwittingly rested on Squall's arm, wondering if Kayla would grow up as strong as her father. Maybe she would. Despite all his faults, Quistis had always admired Squall's strength. Maybe between the two of them, Kayla would grow up to be strong like her father, and brilliant like her mother. Quistis couldn't help feeling excited at the thought.

"Oh…" she suddenly gasped. "Oh my…"

Squall stirred, awakened by the suddenly strong grip Quistis had clamped into his forearm.

"Quisty…? What…?"

"Squall… it's time…"

"Time?" Squall softly said. "Time for what?"

"OH!" Quistis gasped again, her hands now digging into his arms like they were claws. "It's _time_!"

Puzzled and still sleepy, Squall looked at her with half-shut eyes. Quistis glared back, her face flushed with anxiety and anticipation.

"…It's _**time!**_ No more false alarms. This is it."

The groggy look on Squall's face was replaced by alarm. "Oh…! Oh SHOOT!"

**End Of Chapter 16**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

He'd think the people here would make good converts if that pitiful idiot hadn't already indoctrinated them. Zeilgr Markkon didn't know whether to find what he believed as the inanity of pacifism hilarious or annoying. Yeah right, he had always thought. Every problem can be resolved without conflict, or so preached Fisherman Horizon's mayor Aaron Dobe and his wife Flo. Barring his own expertise in mass manipulation, Markkon would have admired Dobe's efficiency in convincing people if he didn't think the height-challenged mayor weren't so pathetic.

Familiar Face numbers 1 and 2 were on the scene to escort the governor, as they had done in so many occasions in the past. But this time, there were only two of them. Familiar Face #3 used to accompany them whenever they escorted an important dignitary who wished to hold audience with Mayor Dobe. And the reason why he was missing was evident on their sad faces. Recently, the people of FH mourned the passing of Siegfried Waller, the town's mightiest defender. They mourned him like anyone would a fallen hero; the day was dark, sullen, and bereft of even the most rambunctious of children's laughter. But the sadness of a town couldn't quite compare to that felt by these two. Siegfried had been like a brother to them. And it had never been easy to lose a brother.

If they only knew about the handiwork of this man they were escorting.

"He had been remodeling," Markkon remarked as he gazed at Dobe's newly renovated house situated at the center of the gigantic radio antennae dish that composed most of the town's surface area. His voice was unimpressed. "Since when did Aaron develop a taste for off-pacifistic architecture?" he added sarcastically.

It was obvious Familiar Face #1 didn't really feel like replying. But he still did so out of courtesy. "A… year ago. Right before his kids arrived from Kalada University."

"I didn't know the Dobes had children," Markkon replied.

"It wasn't common knowledge. They were almost always away from home anyway."

"Another loose end…" the governor muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, lad. I was just… thinking about domestic affairs."

"Really, sir. I reckon that's why you're here," Familiar Face #2 said. "But with all due respect, I have to warn you now that you may be pining for a lost cause."

Markkon's eyebrows elevated. "Is that a fact?"

"That's what I think. If you're here to convince Mayor Dobe to join your crusade against Balamb Garden, then I think you're in for a disappointment. Mayor Dobe may have voiced out his opposition to SeeD, but not in such an aggravated method. I'm quite certain he will not be party to your efforts of instigating violence to bend the governments' will to yours."

Markkon just smiled and no longer answered. The group maintained the silence until they reached the town's geographical center, where the house of Mayor Aaron Dobe of FH stood as though it was intentionally made a landmark so that people could easily find him. As Dobe had seen himself, the people of FH also saw him as a great man of wisdom who should be sought after by anyone who valued counsel.

Which was why they were wondering why Markkon had decided to see him. Did the Winhill governor actually expect Dobe to give him an advice about a cause he didn't believe in?

There was hardly a creak as the door slowly swung open. Markkon looked around first, and marveled at the artifacts littered around the enlarged lower floor living room. Mayor Dobe must have been quite a collector, he thought. He was so good in the hobby of collecting that some had said he even managed to find a way to isolate draw points. In fact, one existed inside the second floor receiving room.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Markkon?" a voice echoed from the floor above.

Markkon instantly recognized it. "Why Aaron, my good friend. It is good to hear your voice again."

"I would say the feeling is mutual if I hadn't heard about what you did in Timber," the voice said. "And truthfully, I can't figure out what your motive in this dark game is."

He completely ignored that the mayor had not invited him up. Zeilgr Markkon proceeded to the second floor to face Mayor Dobe directly.

"But you don't understand. What I'm doing is for peace."

Mayor Dobe's face grew dark. He didn't appreciate Governor Markkon's intrusive behavior.

"You don't waste any time, do you?"

"The same has been said about you."

"I wasn't paying you a compliment. What do you want?"

His ashen face carried a stern look as Dobe bored into Markkon's dark face that sported a confident yet ominous grin. It was as though he was actually measuring the governor's contemptuous intent from the dark aura coming from eyes that were almost covered from above by lush, brown eyebrows. The mayor of FH had known his counterpart in Winhill for the most part of his duty. Together, they had been part of numerous conventions aimed towards deliberating the fate of those who suffered under Vinzer Deling's regime, most notable of which was the last peace summit held in Esthar more than six months ago that all but declared Timber's independence from Galbadia. Dobe remembered having a cordial impression of Markkon, though he did not like how the governor ridiculed Timber's quest for freedom, calling it an arrogant dream by a handful that claimed they represented the mandate of the people. Though displaying exemplary behavior as a gentleman, there was no doubt in Dobe's mind that Markkon held a far more sinister agenda than what Timber freedom fighter and incumbent governor Ferrin Soxa had accused him of.

That summit, though productive in its final outcome and did give a semblance of unity among the different national and municipal representatives that attended it, revealed for him one glaring sign that foreshadowed the fiery propaganda Markkon had been leading now. In a surprise move, Markkon resoundingly opposed President Laguna Loire's proposition of establishing a SeeD liaison base in every major city to facilitate local law enforcement and military training as well as make possible a quick response force for extreme emergencies. Most representatives had agreed to the proposal, and were surprised that Markkon had to be the only voice of opposition, at least half-expecting that he'd be foremost in the campaign to promote such an endeavor. And with good reason. Besides President Loire and General Caraway, Governor Markkon was the next closest public official they had to family. As a young man, Zeilgr Markkon was reportedly close to Squall Leonhart's late mother, Raine.

It was a theory that turned out with two blades. Some postulated that Markkon may have felt an attachment to the late Winhill resident too close that when she ended up marrying Laguna, he couldn't accept the outcome. That the governor had been benevolent during the most part of his term was now being referred to as a gesture to throw off possible detractors. It hadn't been easy to secure such a place, even if it had been a mere governorship of lowly Winhill. Markkon had been remembered for his intense campaign that won him the single narrowest reelection victory in the history of Galbadian politics. And he didn't do so by being antagonistic to the leader of the world's most powerful nation and Galbadia's own president. But now that he had his office back, it was time to reveal his true agenda, or so experts said.

And yet, many believed that an old grudge was too superficial to fuel an effort this humongous. And many had been relegated to wondering what Markkon's real motive was for heavily criticizing both SeeD and Esthar.

Mayor Dobe was hardly one of them. But that was before he witnessed how Markkon manipulated the people of Timber to commit such gross acts of public disobedience that narrowly caused an international incident. If it hadn't been for Governor Soxa's public apology, a lot of people were so sure that Timber would have faced heavy sanctions against both General Caraway and President Loire for assaulting a Balamb Garden outpost. And being violent in nature, it likewise didn't sit well for Mayor Dobe even though he hardly had any love for Garden.

"I'm not any happier with what happened back in Timber, old friend," Markkon replied. "But under such circumstances, the fire of a people oppressed could hardly be held back even in the face of serious reprimand. Surely you do not think that all that violence was my doing."

"I'd be sarcastic if I had any time for that, Markkon. But I don't. So don't take me for a fool. I don't have to tell you how the people reacted to your slurs."

"It was a fire that had been burning inside them long before I came into the picture, Dobe. I didn't start it, I just opened the gates that had been holding the conflagration back. You and I know about Timber and its history of latent insubordination to whoever tried to conquer them. Look at all those resistance forces they had when Deling still held the helm. And when those Garden outposts were erected, if I may add, against Soxa's better judgment, did you actually think that a freedom-loving people would put up with that? No. They were already angry. What happened back there, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Actually, it was fortunate that I was there to direct their hostility. If I hadn't been there, who knows who else might have been hurt."

Mayor Dobe paused shortly. But there was that same suspicious twang when he spoke again.

"You kind of surprise me today, Zeilgr," he said. "As you've known me, I've also known you well. And it's never been your way to defend yourself as though you're actually being humble about something." Markkon threw him a blank look. "You must really need my support for whatever it is you're planning."

"And you sound so sure that I have another agenda apart from ridding the world of Garden and that sanctimonious Loire."

"I wasn't born yesterday, you overweight oaf."

"My, some things sure have changed. And since when did you start calling people names?"

Dobe didn't answer. Being Markkon's associate for quite some time, he had anticipated him soliciting his participation in the campaign against Garden. By no means did the mayor intend on joining what he believed as Markkon's inane crusade and had known what to say beforehand, but maybe calling him names may be a tad overdoing it. He was, after all, known as a pacifist.

"My apologies, Governor Markkon," Dobe stated formally. "What I mean to say is, I am quite certain that there is something else you have been planning against Garden that far transcends this outward propaganda you are staging. I don't mean to state that I know of such a plot or even its mere nature, but I also cannot be party to it. I have a reputation to uphold for the sake of my constituents."

"And so you say that you know what your constituents want."

"They want peace and nothing more. What's so hard to understand there?"

"It is you who do not understand," Markkon came back blatantly. "Peace is not just the mere absence of conflict. Peace is knowing that you hold your destiny in your own hands. Peace is living your life without having to worry about outside forces powerful enough to influence a huge range of issues that could govern the path of your existence. Peace is not having a group of overrated celebrity mercenaries holding fort in your own town as though it is an extension of their playground. That is what I am fighting for."

Mayor Dobe thought Governor Markkon was so sure of the words he had just spoken that for the ordinary individual, it would have come across as solid resolve and conviction. But being a pacifist and a former man of science aside, Aaron Dobe had also evolved into a seasoned politician with his years as helmsman of Fisherman's Horizon, a town that appeared trite in its policy of pacifism but held enough strategic worth due to its location at the midpoint of an intercontinental railroad bridge that had just reopened. If there was one thing Mayor Dobe had outgrown, it was naiveté. He couldn't help snickering at Markkon.

"Ha-ha! You nearly got me there. I almost thought you were serious."

Markkon smiled. "I've been practicing."

"When is a conniving world leader not a conniving world leader?"

"When he's fighting for the greater good."

"But that's not the case here, is it?"

"You'll never know," Markkon said, his smile turning into a dark grin. "But I can assure you that whatever it is, your participation will benefit you tremendously."

"And you think I'd fall for that?"

"You may already have, you just haven't realized it yet."

At that, Mayor Dobe reverted to a serious pose, reassuming the trademark cross-legged sitting position that he had always held to send people the message that he was all business when it came to political affairs. But this time, he didn't intend to further this particular business.

"I'd tell Flo to show you the door, but she'd indisposed at the moment."

One would expect the crafty governor to become irked with the mayor's crass behavior. And one would be surprised to see Markkon leisurely striding back to the stairway as though he actually got what he wanted.

"It's been a pleasure, Mayor Dobe."

"The pleasure's all mine, Governor Markkon," Dobe replied acerbically.

Outside, a group of reporters with microphones and minirecorders quickly scampered towards Markkon as he emerged from the mayor's residence. _Media vultures._ Markkon thought to himself, as he always had whenever reporters managed to corner him.

There was a smile on his face as the mediamen started pelting him with questions.

_Things couldn't have been more perfect if I planned them myself._

* * *

"So how are you doing?"

Rinoa looked at him, and it made Irvine realize how ridiculous that question sounded. How was a girl cheated on by her lover should be doing? The pained look in Rinoa's eyes gave the obvious answer. The words that came out of her mouth denied it.

"I'm good," she said.

Irvine could slice the insincerity with a steak knife. "Really?"

It was clear to the gunslinger that she was merely trying to defy the bitterness. In a way, he found it admirable. Rinoa had never been known as a toughing-out type, her reliance to her friends and especially to Squall perennially giving everyone an impression of her as a dependent girl, sometimes bordering on the unfair label of a spoiled brat. That part of her had always been seen as a paradox when taken side by side by her headstrong attitude. Here was one person who knew how to be assertive but didn't exactly know how to go about it on her own.

Nevertheless, Rinoa was still one who needed another arm to cling to when things got too hairy. And the primary arms had always been Squall's. Maybe that was why she was trying to be self-reliant despite herself. She had no other choice. Being used to relying on Squall for almost everything that she herself couldn't control, Rinoa had now been forced to a situation where the source of the conflict was Squall himself. She was immensely distraught by his betrayal, and that should have been enough to send her scampering for a friendly shoulder. But the fact that she had been so used to Squall's shoulder had left her with almost nowhere to run too.

Which, of course, explained why she was here in his room. Never mind her pretentious insistence for being 'good' and 'peachy keen'. Irvine knew that Rinoa came for solace.

But he didn't know how to give it to her without being awkward. Knowing her as a close friend all this time, Irvine suddenly didn't know what to do now that he knew Rinoa was really his sister. Yeah, sure. Unscrupulous guys who had been on his case for being a ladies' man had been pelting him with accusations of secretly having the hots on the princess from Deling City. Irvine had shrugged off the critiques and insisted that he merely cared for Rinoa in a brotherly way.

He had no idea.

She looked at him and smiled sweetly. Irvine could only feel amazed at the fortitude she was showing. It certainly was out of character.

"Yes, really," Rinoa said. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Um… I don't know. I'm just concerned about you."

"Well, I'm not going to pretend that I'm one hundred percent okay. I mean, it's not like we only had a short fling or a one-night stand."

Irvine didn't know if he should nod to that.

"We were together for two years, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Like, that's usually far longer than your average 'there's nothing serious about us' thing. I mean… we were kinda serious, right?"

_Kinda?_ Irvine had wanted to say. _You've been talking about getting married and having kids, for cryin' out loud!_ But he kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to drill in any further what now appeared to be a lost cause.

"Um… yeah."

"'Um yeah?' You're not convinced we were serious?"

"Of course I was."

"Okay," Rinoa said. "Then you probably could explain to me how some guy who we all thought was too dense to know the difference between a friend and a Funguar could emerge from his shell and turn into the most caring person I've ever known… and then all of the sudden break my heart by going to bed with another girl."

"Um…"

"What makes a guy like that tick?"

"Ah… I wouldn't know."

"Really? You?"

Irvine sensed the accusation in Rinoa's voice. "Hey, what is that supposed to mean?"

"I just thought you'd know more about the subject than I do. Don't be so touchy."

"Aw… never mind. If you want my opinion, I can't give it to you yet. I have to know his side first."

"His side? Irvine, we never got into a fight, at least not something that could push him to do something like that. He cheated on me, plain and simple. What makes someone like him do something like that? Is it me? Do you think I'm too inadequate for him?"

"No, you're not," Irvine declared firmly. "But…" He realized what he was about to say: _Any girl would look inadequate when placed beside Quisty._ Irvine almost hit his head against the wall for even thinking of saying something like that.

"But what?"

"But…" he momentarily groped. "But… even the best of us can make mistakes, you know. Nobody's perfect."

"We don't have to be perfect!" Rinoa exclaimed. She was now becoming agitated. "I'm not. But I NEVER cheated on him."

"I don't mean that."

"Then what do you mean?"

A blank wall, he next thought. His argument wasn't going anywhere. Irvine opted to change the direction of their conversation.

"Have you even considered the circumstances surrounding what he did? Have you ever asked yourself what caused it?"

"What? You mean it could have been my fault?" Rinoa blurted out. "Are you taking his side? Of course you're taking his side. You men are all alike."

"Oh man… there goes that talk again. One of us screws up and the next thing we know, we're all a bunch of hormone-driven two-timers."

"I didn't say you all are. But even you have to admit that men have a greater capacity to wander into other pastures. Men are by nature polygamous. But it's not a generalization. It's just statistically proven that more men cheat on their lovers than women."

That last statement offended Irvine. Maybe Rinoa was languishing under the pain of betrayal, but that didn't give her a reason to deride him. He may have had a reputation for swinging, but he knew in his conscience that he had never cheated on anyone. If he had to break a heart, he'd do it by being frank and honest. Rinoa had no right to even imply otherwise.

"Now that's freakin' unfair and you know it!" Irvine barked at her before proceeding hurriedly to the walk-in cabinet, closing the door resoundingly beside her.

Left outside, Rinoa bit her lips in regret. It was bad enough that Squall betrayed her. Now she had ended up insulting the one person who could possibly lend her any comfort. Not merely because Irvine was one of her closest guy friends, but also because he was in the same boat as she – though he wasn't aware of that yet.

And she certainly wouldn't be the one to tell him that they were on the same boat.

Rinoa was still sitting on the edge of the bed when Irvine emerged from the closet, now clad in his usual beige Western-style coat and cowboy hat. Clicking sounds emanated as he checked the load of the shiny Exeter before holstering it in a harness hidden inside the knee-length coat. And as he did, Irvine looked conspicuously at Rinoa.

"Are you done yet?"

She grimaced, though she knew she deserved it.

"I… I'm sorry."

Irvine didn't respond and just stared at her, the accusing dagger in his eyes slowly melting into a look of resignation. And with a sigh, the gunslinger slowly trotted towards his distraught friend and knelt beside her. "Rinoa, I know you're hurt. And believe me when I say that I'll be here when you need me. But you have to stop pushing the people who care about you away as an outlet. You have to be smarter than that. We're all each other have, you know."

That last sentence carried a different weight. Irvine wondered for how long he could contain himself without telling her the truth.

And Rinoa was sure as hell totally oblivious.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice betraying a sob. "I didn't mean to take it out on you. But…"

"Hey, no explanations. It's okay," he said gently. "You're like a sis… um…"

Oops?

"You're like a sister to me," he reluctantly proceeded. Rinoa was too occupied with her sadness to notice the conspicuous pause.

"I just don't know what do to anymore!"

Irvine was startled when Rinoa suddenly buried her face into his right shoulder and sobbed repeatedly in it. He then almost lashed at himself for being unreasonably sensitive.

_Damn you, Caraway!_ his mind cried out. Thanks to General Caraway, he thought, he now found consoling his friend a totally new and awkward experience. Never mind that they had done this dance many times in the past.

"Sshh…" he whispered. "It'll be all right. Let Squall realize that he's a jerk and it was his loss."

Rinoa cried, prolonging her trembling presence on Irvine's shoulder. "He is a jerk!" she blurted out in between sobs. "Stupid, stupid jerk!" It took a while before she stopped weeping, after which she slowly lifted her head up. But not too high up. Rinoa paused right in front of Irvine's face and looked at him intently.

"Let Quistis have him for all I care."

"You don't really mean that," Irvine said, staring into her teary eyes.

Rinoa stared back… and surprised him with a sudden question.

"Irvy… do you think I'm pretty?"

"What?"

"I know all of you guys think Quistis is God's gift to the justification of male abandon. But… you do think I'm also pretty, don't you?"

"Heh…" Irvine scoffed awkwardly. "Of course you are. Why'd you even ask that? You know you're as much a neck breaker as Quisty is."

He was already struggling hard to maintain his composure. As he spoke, Rinoa's face was slowly drawing closer to his. Irvine could already smell her breath. It exuded the fragrance of mint, and had to be the sweetest whiff of breath he had ever smelled. All of the sudden, Irvine was cursing at Squall for what he did. How could a guy have the nerve – and stupidity – to cheat on a girl like Rinoa? How could Squall be so stupid as to risk losing the loveliest lips and most intoxicating breath he had ever savored? Didn't he realize how many men could almost give their souls to the devil to have a chance at pressing Rinoa's lips against theirs?

_Goddammit!_

How could he be thinking about her like this? Wasn't Rinoa supposed to be his sister?

But what about that thing called psychological conditioning? He hadn't known her as his sister for more than a few days. Even though it was true, it was still so foreign to him. The fact was so alien that he was not beyond going insane trying to make the truth sink in. Rinoa was his sister. Rinoa was his sister! He tried… but it still held so little ground in his mind.

And those lips were just too damn inviting…

"Rinoa, I think we should let…"

"Shut up."

And he did.

* * *

What had he gotten himself into?

Squall's mind raced like it never had before. Being Garden's co-number 1 SeeD who was normally tasked the most impossible of situations, and thinking fast under extreme pressure had become second nature to him. He had never hesitated in making impossible decisions where his life and the life of his crew hung in the balance. He had been used to doing such things in between the ticks of a second, when something like the sharp talons of an attacking Grendel, plummeting fast towards his back coincided with a bomb ticking down to its last moments, with its assortment of red, blue, green and fuchsia wires all tangled up in between his fingers. Moving fast, decisively and resolutely had spelt the difference between life and death for himself, his comrades and innocent people. To him, making life and death decisions on the battlefield was no more special than choosing whether to have eggs or corn for breakfast.

Give him one hundred Omega Weapons any day and he'd welcome it gladly over a pregnant woman who was about to give birth.

"Oh no… Oh no…" he incessantly stuttered while trying his best to make Quistis as comfortable as possible. This was definitely more than Squall had expected. He remembered intentionally skipping classes that taught emergency measures for assisting a woman who was on the brink of childbirth. He thought he could never understand why a SeeD had to be taught that lesson. Yes, they may have been known for facing the most dangerous missions that even grizzled army special forces would hardly volunteer to do. But why childbirth? Had this school suddenly transformed into a Balamb Institute of Midwifery?

Squall knew he should accept his mistake and admit that SeeDs needed to know as much as they could about nearly any situation and predicament under the sun. Now he was hoping that he didn't skip that emergency assistance for childbirth class.

"Oh shoot oh shoot oh shoot…"

"Squall, try to calm down," Quistis said, her voice mildly strained from the beginning labor pains. "It's not as bad as it looks."

He looked at her, noting the beads of sweat starting to form around her forehead. What kind of discomfort must Quistis be feeling at this moment.

"Are you okay? You don't look good. Maybe I should get a cold pack. Is there one in the refrigerator or the medicine cabinet? How about a…"

Quistis would laugh if she weren't feeling weary of the contractions. She had never heard Squall talk this fast, nor seen him this panicky. So much for the cold and composed Leonheart.

"Squall. Just… get Doctor Kadowaki on the phone. She's supposed to come yesterday to assist me and…"

"Okay, don't talk, save your strength. I'll give her a call," he said hurriedly before grabbing the wall-mounted phone by the bathroom. He fumbled Quistis' Palm Pilot for a few times before managing to firmly prop it over the adjacent desk. With the phone held between his head and shoulders and both his hands being used on the Palm Pilot, Squall tried to pen the telephone number of Balamb Garden's infirmary. One ring, and the call was immediately answered.

"Balefor's Fastfood. We specialize in roasted wild birds and fowls. How may I help you?"

"Aaaa…"

"Squall, what are you doing?"

"Nothing… YAAAA!" He fumbled the electronic device one more time.

"Hurry up, they're getting closer…"

"Closer? Who's getting closer?!" he blurted out while scampering for the partially open window of Quistis' bedroom. With eyes wide in alert, the SeeD commander looked out into the vast open field. "I don't see anything."

"You dingbat! I'm talking about the contractions!"

"Oh…" he mumbled. "OH! Okay, sorry. I'm so sorry!" Quickly dashing back to the phone, Squall made he sure this time that he dialed the correct number. Two rings echoed before Dr. Kadowaki's voice followed. Squall didn't bother with the pleasantries.

"Doc! Doctor. I need your help. I'm at Quistis', and it's time!"

"Who is this?" the confused physician came back. "Squall? Where are you? And what are you talking about?"

"I'm with Quistis, here in Dollet. And it's TIME! You gotta help me out here, doc. I don't know what to do!"

"It's time… oh! Ohmigod!" Kadowaki crackled back, realizing what he meant. "Okay, settle down. We're not going to accomplish anything with you panicking like that. How's Quistis doing?"

"I don't… she said the contractions are getting closer. What does that mean?"

"Put me on speakerphone," she instead answered. Upon realizing that her reception had turned hollow, the physician began speaking aloud. "Quisty, how close are they?"

Already sweating profusely, Quistis bent her head up to respond. "I don't know. I'm not hooked up. Maybe thirty seconds, maybe less. I… don't know."

"I see. Squall, we have to monitor the contraction rate or else we won't know if they're too close for the baby to take."

"What do I need to do?"

"Get the Doppler tester at the overhead bin in the bathroom. You know what an ECG looks like so you should have no trouble recognizing it. Go get it and hook her up."

Loud noises of crashing soap dishes, shampoo bottles and other toiletries filled the room as Squall razed through the bathroom to find the device that Doctor Kadowaki told him about. It wasn't anywhere around the faucet sink. Eyes glaring wide, he frantically scanned the place one more time before recalling that the doctor had mentioned the overhead bin.

"Bingo!" he exclaimed upon finding the device. Rushing back beside Quistis, he quickly hollered another question on the open speakerphone. "How do I work this?"

"There are four wired terminals coming out of it. Connect two of them on both sides of her belly and one each on the left and right side slightly below the small of her back."

"Got it." he said before turning to Quistis. "Sorry, but I may have to lift your dress up."

Again, Quistis wanted to laugh and tell him that 'There's nothing in there you haven't seen yet.' But she was already overwhelmed by the uncomfortable waves of pain resonating one after the other from a source that she could no longer pinpoint. The pain now seemed to be coming from her entire lower body.

"Owww…"

"Oh no, don't you howl at me like that, Quisty," Squall stammered, terror plastered on his face. "I don't know the first thing about all this so please try not to give me a hard time."

"You… idiot…" she faded. But Squall was already unmindful of her as he commenced with the chore of connecting the terminal nodes to her bulging stomach and throbbing back. But being new to this, Squall had to do the trial and error approach. A loud groan emanated from Quistis whenever he stuck his hands harder than he should against her waist. "Ow! Be careful!"

"Sorry…"

"Sorry? Sorry for what? For putting me into this sucky situation or for making a mother out of me?"

Squall was startled by Quistis' unexpectedly crass remark; he had never heard her speak this bluntly. At the other end of the line, Doctor Kadowaki must have guessed what he was feeling.

"Squall, don't mind her. Women about to give birth tend to become irrational because of the pain. It's mostly true for those giving birth for the first time."

"Oh… okay…" he said, feeling the need to brace himself. But the thought of a cantankerous Quistis was so alien, especially to one who thought no one could better him when it came to being crabby. Describing his subsequent disposition as bewildered became an understatement. Nervous as hell, Squall's left hand that was supporting Quistis' hips slipped.

"Aaah! Dammit!"

"Sorry!" he said, unable to look her in the eyes. "Please, Quisty, don't make this harder than it already is."

"I'm making it hard?! YOU did this to me, you jerk!"

"Okay, okay! Just calm down."

"Calm? CALM? YOU EXPECT SOMEONE WHO'S ABOUT TO BE RIPPED OPEN TO CALM DOWN? I'LL SHOW YOU CALM!"

"Quisty, please!"

"ULTIMA! ULTIMA! OWWWW!"

It was a good thing Quistis wasn't junctioned, Squall thought. He didn't bother to dodge the pillow rushing to his face.

Finally, periodic beeping sounds started to fill the room as the device began recording the rate of uterine contractions pressing inside Quistis' body. His hands trembling, Squall alternated his eyes between the Doppler tester and Quistis, pondering hard on what to do next. At least she had relatively simmered down. The contraction was currently at an ebb, as he would have figured out if he knew how to read the LCD display on the device. So what now?

"How's the monitor?" Kadowaki asked nervously.

"It's showing two fluctuating waves. The one on the top…"

"The top measures the contraction frequency and duration, Squall. It's the amount of time elapsing between contractions, and how long each one lasts. The one at the bottom is the baby's heart rate."

'Freakin' hell!' Squall's mind hollered. Medical procedures, though taught in limited scope in SeeD courses, had never been his specialty. When choosing a team for a mission, he always made it a point to get an experienced first aid administrator so he didn't have to do it himself. The appearance of electronic hospital devices always intimidated him.

But he knew he had to do this.

"So what's considered normal, doctor?"

"How long has she been in labor?"

"Um, I'm not sure. She woke me up around eleven…" He glanced at the clock mounted above the bedroom door. "More or less two hours."

"The interval should be okay at ten to fifteen minutes, and it shouldn't last more than a minute at the most. The baby's heart rate is something like a bird's. Quite fast. Between a hundred and a hundred fifty per minute should be fine," the physician explained, adding "And I DON'T like the sound of that."

"Tell me about it…" Squall said apprehensively. "It's an awful lot closer than ten minutes."

"Time it."

It didn't take more than two minutes for Squall to respond. "Doc… thirty seconds."

"Goddammit…!" Doctor Kadowaki exclaimed, clearly upset.

"What?"

"Quistis' labor is moving too fast. Damn too fast! On one hand, it could be a good thing. If this progresses properly, she should deliver quickly, with less pain." She paused again. Every time she did that, it brought a new wave of anxiety in Squall's heart. "But I doubt it. That case has a million to one chance of pulling through."

"Doc, cut to the chase, okay?"

"The contractions being that fast suggests irregularity and possible hypoxia. It could cause great distress to the baby, and her heart might not be able to take it…"

Squall's blood ran cold. Now that the doctor mentioned it, he noticed that the electrocardiograph was slowing down.

"Oh no…"

"What's wrong?"

"Doctor, the baby's heart rate is dropping!"

"What? Oh my…! Uh… Squall, this is critical. We have to deliver her now!"

"Okay, I got it," Squall shot back, his face pale. "But how do we do that?"

"C-sect is out of the question, you don't have the training. So what happens next is entirely up to you!"

Hearing those words finally froze him in place. Squall was terrified. It was bad enough that he had to play apprentice midwife over the phone. Now the doctor had just told him that the life of the child… HIS child… was on his hands. Flabbergasted, Squall was unable to utter a response.

"Squall! I need you to do this or else we'll lose the baby!"

Quistis started objecting vehemently. "No! I'm… not having it!" Desperate hands groped and grasped like eagle talons against the black leather wrapped around the fearful SeeD commander's arm. "Squall… please!"

Only one thing was racing through his mind. 'I can't do this! I don't know how!'

**End Of Chapter 17**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18 **

Two knocks on the stately door coincided with the strong pounding in her chest. Selphie fidgeted, wondering about the reason for Headmaster Cid's summons.

She didn't know if she should welcome this or not. Selphie had uncharacteristically been feeling stressful during the last few days, with her mind trying to crunch too much information as it tried to make some sense out of the myriad events unfolding before her. Up to now, she still couldn't erase the stigma of facing Zell alone for the first time in months. It was almost like fighting an addiction, trying to overcome a world-sized urge to give in to her heart's desire of holding him close, with not a semblance of a care in the world.

She failed. She gave in to her months old yearning, just as he did. And in the process the supposedly vivacious Trabian standout drove another nail to the coffin of her rapidly dying conscience. Whether she liked having her sensibility dulled by repeated acts of unfaithfulness against Irvine or not, she didn't know. All she knew was it would never amount to something good unless she found the reason, courage and sense to come clean with him. Until then, she would always hide with repressed feelings and a bullet-riddled conscience. Being with Zell was, for her, total bliss. But not being able to make it 'legal'… not being able to declare it to the world without hurting another soul that she knew she still loved… it was eating away at her. She had never felt this muddy in her entire life.

And she could hardly do anything about this even if she wanted to. She also thought she had just made a fool of herself. Zell had left, supposedly to attend to his girlfriend who had suddenly fallen with a strange illness. Was she worried about Iris? Of course she was. At least that was what she had been claiming. And she would simply justify the lack of emotional concern by saying that she had a lot on her mind to be actively worried about the pigtailed girl's precarious condition.

She didn't know she had it in her to fool herself like this.

On the other hand, would she go to the extent of wishing Iris to never recover and eventually bite the dust? Maybe she won't. She couldn't possibly live with herself otherwise. Besides, would she want Zell to wish that something bad happened to Irvine just to get him out of their way? No way! That would be too low!

Could there have been some profound reason why Irvine was here and Zell wasn't? Could there have been some mysterious force telling her that Irvine was still _the_man for her? How would she react if there were?

She remembered Rinoa, and what Squall did to her. She remembered a Quistis hiding from the world to keep them away from the product of her shameful and blatant act of betrayal.

And she remembered she was also guilty. Rinoa surely did a lousy job of choosing who to turn to in her anguish. She had to pick someone who was guilty of the same crime. Selphie appreciated that Rinoa did not even once mention a single word of disdain against her. But seeing her with that basketball player, and with that deriding smile on her face that seemed to say _'See? Two can play at this game. Oh, I mean three. You included.'_brought back the pain of guilt.

Maybe it was a mistake for her to be the one to try to sympathize with Rinoa. Selphie hated thinking like this. She loved Rinoa dearly and couldn't possibly turn her back on her friend's hour of need. But considering the circumstances, Rinoa was better off seeing someone else. Someone who could talk some sense into her while sticking a gun at anyone who'd attempt to take advantage of her emotional vulnerability.

Selphie thought aloud. "She should have seen Irvine instead of me." Adding in her mind how Rinoa had always listened to him. Yeah, Rinoa was definitely better off seeing Irvine.

* * *

Soft lips… so exhilarating… so intoxicating…

Awkward hands clad with sniper gloves groped for something to hold, as though it knew the silky river of black hair whose fragrance intoxicated him was forbidden domain. Though if he was honest, he knew how badly he wanted to caress them, in much the same manner her hands were running down his mass of dark-brown strands.

_What is this…? Where are we…?_

Eventually, unavoidably, the hands found smooth arms, around one of which was wrapped a black ribbon. As he squeezed her bare arms, she felt the thick, velvety texture of his beige, soft leather coat. Unsatisfied, fragile fingers studding soft sorceress hands began exploring the territory beneath the beige leather, which was in turn covered by a single layer of expensive microfiber. She grasped, wrinkling the yielding cloth. It would be so easy to pull it off from being tucked in the belted waist hem of his pants. It would be equally easy to remove that belt.

_Squall… this is your fault. This is all your fault…_

Her eyelids were only partially closed to barely expose a slit of the whitish surface of her eyes, their dreamy light projecting a peaceful impression of bliss. But his were different. They were shut tight, reflecting a war raging inside his mind. He can't be doing this. He couldn't. He mustn't.

_This is insane!_

But he was too lost. Lost in the paradise of soft lips and mint-cinnamon breath. Lost in the universe enclosed in whatever space was left between their fused mouths. Lost in the absence of a conviction and a fortitude that would have been there if he'd been native to the truth. But no. He was alienated from the truth. And the truth was alien to him. His soul had yet to catch up to what his mind had discovered. And kissing Rinoa, though one he knew to be his sister, still felt no different from kissing the next supercutie.

She couldn't be doing this. He mustn't be doing this. But the rebelling thoughts were all for naught as gaping mouths continued to lock, sip and taste each other. The objecting conscience became drowned in a sea where only hands had freedom to move between milky-white arms and silky-smooth shoulder skin underneath black midriff and light-blue straps. Refusing minds became silenced by silent scrapes between slim, satin hands with fingers running around now exposed belly skin and squeezing into the gap between trouser waist hem and the territory just above his pelvis.

Her mind continued to lay blame as her lips caressed his. His conscience continued to rebel as his hands laid her shoulders bare.

And then there were tongues dancing and a belt buckle being loosened.

_…_

God… what am I doing?

…!

WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?!

"NO!"

"Ugh!" Rinoa gasped resoundingly, jostled and startled after Irvine forcefully grasped her shoulders and pushed her away from him. Her shoulder joints hurt from the power of his vice-like grip.

"What the hell's wrong with you?!"

"What the hell's wrong with me? WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"Me? Why me?"

"Yes, you!" Rinoa exclaimed. "Are you gay?"

"WHAT?!"

"Are you gay?" she repeated more loudly, puzzled by the disgusted look in Irvine's face, holding his mouth as though he had just smooched a Malboro. "You're acting like I didn't brush my teeth for a year. Is that how much you hate kissing girls? I've known a lot of guys who pretend to be all macho and irresistible to hide the fact that they're gay. Are you one of them?"

"Son of a… DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!"

"Then why are you acting like that?!"

"Because…!"

He suddenly stopped. What in the world would he offer as explanation to account for the fact that he had just acted exactly like what Rinoa was accusing him of? So now what? Let her believe that he was gay? Was the big secret actually worth ruining the precious reputation he had erected for himself after all these years?

It then dawned on Irvine that for certain, Rinoa will know sooner or later. The same realization that pushed Squall to confess a transgression that he knew would destroy their relationship had begun to pressure him to reveal a secret that might just destroy Rinoa's last vestiges of trust and respect for her… _their_father. Would that be a good thing? He didn't care much if she ended up hating General Caraway. Maybe he deserved it.

But what about Rinoa? She certainly didn't deserve another mind-blowing betrayal of the trust she so unquestionably bestowed on her father. Considering that she was still reeling from the betrayal of one trust, being told that her father had not been honest to her mother might just turn out to be the one final push to drive her plummeting down from a thousand foot drop.

On the other hand, she will definitely know eventually. If not from him, then certainly from a conscience-stricken (or so he wished) General Caraway, or from that revolting Zeilgr Markkon himself. If the infamous governor didn't hesitate on telling him, he'd certainly not hesitate in blowing the lid to Rinoa too.

Irvine bit his lips. He was terrified of the prospect. But if Rinoa was to know - and she will - it had to come from him. He had no choice if he wanted to protect her from any further hurt.

He held her shoulders again. But this time, his hands were gentle. As gentle as a concerned brother's hands would hold his lost sister.

"Rinoa… try to calm down. There's something that you must know."

* * *

A metallic squeak emanated from the door. That was her cue, and Selphie promptly turned the brass knob and entered Cid's office.

"Sir," she said softly while brandishing the familiar SeeD salute. "I came as soon as you called."

"At ease, Selphie," Cid said, prompting her to relax on one leg. "Thanks for coming. I need you to do something for me."

Selphie just nodded. Normally, Cid would grow all curious and question her vehemently in the few times that she displayed a serious attitude like this. Little Miss Sunshine, as he had called her back in the orphanage, was so cheerful she couldn't manage a tear if someone pinched and twisted her nose hard. Despite his somber demeanor, Cid had always welcomed Selphie's perkiness. It had provided him and Edea countless hours of delight back in the orphanage whenever the two were into a stressful situation.

A dead serious Selphie now stood before him. Cid was too perceptive to fail to see this coming, especially since he knew what kind of problems her friends had been having. So he opted to no longer waste his breath in criticizing her unusually stoic demeanor.

But Cid also hated seeing Selphie this way. He opted to make this meeting short.

"Pardon me for being direct. I'm appointing you as commander of the SeeD Corps."

That was more than direct. For Selphie, it was also ludicrous.

"E-excuse me?"

Headmaster Cid expected her reaction. "I know it sounds a bit drastic. But this organization has thrived much better with the presence of a leader. And I'm quite sure you've already heard about Squall's resignation."

"Yes I have, sir. But… But why me?"

"Why you what?"

If it weren't for the crisis besieging them, Selphie would think Cid was playing a prank at her. She had known him to indulge in jokes once in a while. But that seemed so inappropriate now given the tidings. "Why are you appointing me, sir? Why _me_?"

"Why not?"

He had also been known to beat around the bush. And though it normally made her think of him as kindred spirit forced by a position of authority to a somber image, Selphie also thought that Cid was prudent enough to know when not to goof around. This certainly wasn't one of those times. And his persistent act of throwing her questions back to her was becoming a bit annoying.

"Sir… I'm hardly qualified."

"You also don't have a choice," Cid answered as he stood up. "It is not unknown to you that Garden has been suffering a slew of setbacks recently. Whether they were caused directly or indirectly by clandestine but premeditated actions by Governor Markkon remains to be seen. But right now, we have to prioritize Garden's lack of a leader following Commander Leonhart's resignation."

She didn't answer, and allowed him to continue.

"As for the reason of choosing you, let me assure you that I don't think of you as any less capable. Furthermore, we have a hierarchy to honor. As it is, Deputy Commander Zell Dincht has filed an indefinite leave of absence to attend to Iris Deen, whom you probably heard has contracted a serious illness."

Selphie felt a pinch in her heart upon hearing Zell's name. A scowl betrayed her emotions. She prayed that the Headmaster didn't notice.

"Sir, what about Xu? She outranks me so that makes her the next logical choice."

Cid shook his head. "No. For reasons that we cannot discuss, Xu could not assume leadership of SeeD. So that makes you the next choice."

Under normal circumstances, Selphie knew that anyone in her position should feel excited at the very least. A promotion to SeeD commander was no mean thing, and she knew of at least a dozen of her colleagues who would jump at the opportunity if so offered.

However, these times hardly constituted normal circumstances. Especially not for her. For the last few weeks, she had to battle the complications brought about by an array of events that happening in succession, she thought as nothing short of unprecedented. First, just when she thought her relationship with Irvine was experiencing a renaissance, she'd discover her feelings for Zell had not subsided, which led to another night of blissful betrayal. Second, the same fact of her giving in for a night with Zell had also made her feel nothing short of a fool, after he filed that leave of absence to be with the woman who he earlier insisted came only second to his heart now. Funny how Zell immediately turned upon learning of Iris' sickness. Selphie wasn't happy about Iris' plight, but she just had to wonder if her act of surrender had made a hero out of herself in her eyes and heart or a sniveling idiot that didn't know her proper place. She had been trying to avoid blaming Zell. Maybe a girlfriend on the brink of death was all he needed to realize where his true feelings lay. She wondered if she'd act the same way had Irvine been on Iris' place.

And then there was this problem concerning Squall, Rinoa and Quistis. Selphie had never seen Squall so distraught. She had never seen Rinoa so vengeful. She wondered how she'd react to the sight of a pregnant Quistis.

She wondered if everything could still be repaired. But after all the betrayed feelings and shattered trust, Selphie was afraid it would be impossible, especially in the event of her reaching a point of no return with Irvine finally discovering her secret affair with Zell. Would it be wise to just go and tell him herself? What could possibly happen if she did? Should that question be asked in the first place? Did she really need to see Zell and Irvine - best friends from whom she always got a kick whenever those two dingbats asked each other 'Dude, where's my car?' whenever they got too drunk during a night out - go the bitter way of Rinoa and Quistis?

Friendships. The best of friendships, crumbling right before her very eyes. And what made it worse for the six of them was the strife itself came within their midst. Selphie would think it amusing - how some storyteller's dream of six best friends ending up on the brink of tearing each other apart because of stray hormones and misguided feelings was coming true - if it wasn't hurting her this much. All her life, Selphie had professed that she loved nothing more than to be surrounded by her friends. And all her life, she had dreamed of the ultimate friendship, the ultimate bond, forged in white-hot fires of danger and adventure, to bless her life with the warmth and love that she missed by not growing up with a real family. What she had lost as a child, she had dreamed of regaining in the form of friends so close that to call themselves merely friends was an injustice.

And she had just that. She had Irvine, Zell, Rinoa, Quistis and Squall. The six of them had grown through a myriad of adversity that compelled them to rely on each other like they had never relied on anyone else. They had transcended fear and terror in the most infernal battlefields of their lives while rallying each other forward, their hearts crying 'Love, Friendship and Courage.' Once upon a time, they achieved the impossible and existed in an impossible world, helped in no small way by that battle cry. It wouldn't have happened if they didn't believe in it. They did. Unwaveringly.

The six of them were surely more than mere friends. They were family. They were all each other had.

And now it seemed they had lost everything. They had lost each other.

Selphie had been trying to downplay it all. But the truth was she was heartbroken.

Thinking about all these had subjected her heart anew in a tempest of torment. Selphie found it totally involuntary, like the beating of her heart, when she looked back at the Headmaster with tears threatening to burst forth from her eyes. She had initially intended to tell him that being SeeD commander was the last thing she needed right now. She ended up confessing her heart's cry.

"I… miss them. I miss them so much…"

Cid understood. And at least for that moment, he decided to stop being the Headmaster and start being a father.

"Come here." Cid held her close. For a long while, nothing was heard except the muffled sobs of a heartbroken girl who missed her friends like crazy. Shortly after, it was followed by gentle words spoken out of fatherly love. "You'll come through this. We all will. It's just one of those days."

Cid allowed Selphie to cry some more. After a few minutes, the Trabian lass gently pushed herself from him, sniffing loudly as she did. It took a few more moments for Selphie to compose herself before finally managing to stand before Cid once more in full military attention.

He couldn't help but admire her. Selphie had truly come a long way since that overly perky girl that hopped, skipped and jumped her way throughout Balamb Garden merely two years ago. Cid couldn't help beaming proudly as Selphie drove herself to a resolve.

"All right, Headmaster. I'll be SeeD commander."

* * *

"Come on, Quisty. You can do it. You just have to push whenever I tell you to, okay?"

There was a trembling in Squall's voice that he couldn't stop. Acting strong had never been this tough before, after Doctor Kadowaki told her of the unusual conditions complicating Quistis' delivery. As he looked at her, unable to tell the difference between the sweat drenching her face and the tears flowing from her eyes, Squall feared that the worst was yet to come. It had been an hour since he hooked her up to the Doppler tester that was registering off the scale readings that would have petrified the most seasoned nurse. If old cartoon premises had been applicable in real life, that device would have already blown up by now.

_"The problem is her dilatation process. Quisty's contractions are so fast it has come to the point of actual delivery too soon. It would have been okay if the dilatation timing had adjusted to compensate for the abnormal rate, but it didn't. In effect, Quisty's uterine walls are pushing against a closed door. And that's what you have to do, Squall. You have to open it!"_

Open it? With what? He was a master of the gunblade. He had lots of training with combat daggers and other forms of cutting tools. But they were all for the battlefield. A scalpel? He couldn't be anything more than idiot-level with it.

"Doc, I can't do it! I can't…!"

_"You have no choice, Squall! Now for the last time, get your act together because if you don't, Quisty's liable to kill the child in her womb or get herself killed!"_

"Doc, you're telling me to cut her open. This is a surgical procedure. I'm not trained for this. And we don't have any anesthetics here."

_"I know, that's my fault. And without it, this is going to be extremely hard for Quisty. But we have no choice."_ There was another pause, with Squall hearing Doctor Kadowaki bellowing a nervous sigh. _"Okay. You only need to make an inch-long incision. The procedure is simple, midwifes normally do this to aid delivery for women having the same problems with dilatation. It's going to be a bit more critical in this case because you're not trained for this."_

_Dammit!_

Squall had always hated having no alternate course of action. But the doctor was right, he had no choice. He wasn't so much worried at what he was going to see as he was about his inexperience. What if he made a mistake?

But he simply couldn't let Quistis down. She could die if the complication went without remedy. Quistis or the baby. And for the life of him, Squall couldn't allow either one to happen. Realizing that, it dawned on him that he wasn't merely trying to aid Quistis' delivery. He was trying to save her and the baby's lives.

And he was not new to saving lives.

"Okay," he said, breathing deeply. "Let's do it. But don't you dare leave me, doc!"

_"I'll be with you every step of the way, Squall."_

It was unnerving, but he tried to ignore her tormented groans, concentrating as he positioned himself properly. Hands still trembling, Squall bit his lips, oblivious to the beads of sweat dripping past them. The gleaming scalpel then moved inside to reach its target.

He was more nervous than he thought. The scalpel made contact suddenly, giving Quistis a shot of terrible pain between her legs.

"AAHHH!" Quistis screamed from the pain. Squall paused and swallowed loudly, terrified by her bellowing groan.

"Quisty, what's happening?"

"Aaahh! It's too… painful, Squall! I can't take it!"

"Doc!"

_"I know it's hard on you, Squall. It's hard on us both. But we've got to continue. Now do it. Be gentle, but do it!"_

He didn't bother to respond. Coldness running incessantly up and down his spine, Squall prepared himself for what he thought as the worst battle he ever had to fight. Again, he aimed the scalpel with his right hand while his left hand tried to hold it steady.

_Here goes nothing…_

A deafening scream filled the entire house and tore through the stillness of the night.

It was then followed by silence. Long silence.

Which was then broken by the shrill cries of a newborn baby girl.

Cries that sounded like music to Squall's ears.

"Hey… heeyyyy…" the SeeD commander cooed affectionately. In his arms now lay the frail but animated form of his daughter.

Curiously, the stoic look resident to his face was nowhere to be seen, and in its place was the excited expression of a man who had just witnessed the most amazing phenomenon in the universe. He didn't know where it was coming from, but all of the sudden, Squall felt like he knew exactly what to do, as he took some sterile linen and deftly wrapped the baby's moist body with it. As he did, his hands still trembled. But not out of fear or anxiety. He dared not say he was happy, but he couldn't deny it either. As Squall held Kayla in his arms, he began to feel an emotion that was so new, and so strangely comforting. Years ago, he remembered cringing at the thought of this moment. Now, he wondered why he did so.

_All this time, I earned my pay by ending lives while claiming to preserve life,_ he unwittingly pondered, at the same time marveling at the source of his profound thoughts. _So this is how it's like to create life…_

Squall continued to stare at that small and fragile face, amazed how something so small could be so alive. He was so mesmerized that he almost didn't notice the weak hands softly tugging at the hem of his black jacket.

"Stop… hogging her, you dingbat," Quistis said, almost in a whisper. "Let me have a look…"

He didn't answer, but instead tossed a fond look at the tired but visibly contented face of the woman who had given birth to this beautiful baby girl now yawning in his arms. Still weak and her face covered by a mix of sweat and tears, Quistis returned the smile that Squall gave her.

"Don't tell me… you're falling in love with me now…"

Squall knew it was a joke, and he would have at least chuckled if this unusual feeling of peace weren't overwhelming him. Gently, he lowered Kayla beside her mother, who despite her exhaustion, eagerly brought her arms around the baby, tugging tenderly close to her.

And as if it wasn't enough, Squall went to get a small towel from the bathroom, soaking it with cold water before returning beside Quistis. With it, he gently wiped the sweat and tears off her face. Quistis seemed oblivious to what Squall did as she continued to lovingly stare at her newborn daughter.

Strangely enough for Squall, at that very moment, that joke didn't seem too farfetched.

* * *

She looked at him as though he had gone insane. Did he actually think she'd believe a word he just said? What did he take her for anyway?

Rinoa couldn't believe Irvine would go this cheap on her. She couldn't believe he'd try to repulse her advances by claiming that they were siblings. As his words echoed back and forth in her mind, subtle indignation began to creep into her heart. Did he have to say something that ridiculous just to push her away?

He should realize that she wasn't doing this because she was attracted to him. She was doing this to get back at Squall. If he could just go and sleep with one of her closest friends, why can't she do the same? She certainly could. And if only to drive a point that she wasn't one to be trifled with, she certainly would.

Of course, it was natural for Irvine to repulse her attempt. There was a big difference between him and Quistis. She was in love with Squall, and it was somehow expected of her to do something like that no matter how noble a character she maintained in the public eye. Irvine may have been known to have a crush on Rinoa. But having a crush on one girl while being in love with another was natural for a ladies' man. And Selphie had always done a great job of keeping Irvine faithful to her.

If he truly couldn't betray Squall's trust, he could have easily resorted to something with more sense, like '_Rinoa, I really find you attractive. But Squall and I are friends. I can't possibly do this to him._' She would have been frustrated, but that would at least have been more respectful.

But no. He said: _"I'm your brother."_

He claimed to be the son of a woman her father, General Caraway, had slept with and gotten pregnant just before he married her mother. A Carina Menken, daughter of Deling City's wealthiest tycoon during the time of the first Sorceress War and her father's supposedly old fling before he met Julia Heartilly.

No one could possibly go any cheaper than that. For a person to have the stomach to say that, he would have to be mentally unstable…

… Or telling the truth.

"Oh shit…"

Irvine observed Rinoa intently, worried that the revelation would turn out too mind-numbing for her. He was considering the possibility of her not believing what he said, and what he would do if that was the case. Would he try further to convince her? Ultimately, he decided to let her choose whether to believe him or not. It was her prerogative, as well as any consequent reaction she chose to assume. He decided it wasn't his job anymore to persuade her to believe him. He had said what he knew. It was now up to her.

"It's either you're a hopeless liar or my dad is," she said, her voice quivering. "How do you expect me to believe this?"

He didn't answer. He didn't know which one would be more beneficial for them both. Only the next series of events will decide.

Rinoa continued on her blabbering, her face locked in a trance-like state. Irvine continued to observe her. He didn't know who among the two of them should be pitied more.

"I… I have a brother…?"

He still remained silent.

"But… but… the two of us have always flirted with each other. Nothing serious. Squall and Selphie both knew that we're just messing around. But we've flirted. Now you're telling me that you're my brother…"

"I know," Irvine finally said. He knew exactly what Rinoa must have been feeling. "It's kinda awkward."

"Yeah…" she said softly. "Especially just before."

Irvine wiped his mouth again. "Yeah."

A long silence permeated between Irvine and Rinoa, with the creaking of the bed as she sat on the edge when she felt her knees wobble the only noise that was heard. Irvine had that frustrated look in his face, a mixture of disappointment and anger aimed at the man who was most responsible for bringing this unto them. Rinoa's face was a cacophony of confusion, as her mind was bombarded with nonsensical questions that weren't so much seeking answers as they were questioning the need for such a perplexing predicament.

Eventually, tears started rolling down Rinoa's face. Irvine noticed her, and grew worried.

"Rinny, are you all right?"

"No…" she said with a broken voice. "I… can't believe this is happening to me. I can't believe how I'm surrounded by liars."

She didn't deserve this! That was all the thought running in Irvine's mind. Rinoa had been nothing but kind, loving and compassionate to everyone whose lives she had touched. To return that kindness with lies and betrayal was nothing short of evil!

"I… I don't know who to trust anymore. I don't know anything anymore…"

_You can still trust me,_he wanted to say. But he dared not, wary of what the word 'trust' would do to her already tormented mind, considering how the two men she trusted and loved the most ended up betraying her.

But Irvine reverted. He had to stop limiting his sympathy for Rinoa like that. It may have been prudent if he were just a friend, like what he thought he knew. Now that he was aware of the truth, he couldn't possibly continue holding back. General Caraway was a merciless oaf, and he may never forgive him for the rest of his life. But his sins were his alone. Rinoa was innocent.

"I… I feel so alone."

She was innocent. And she was his sister. If anything, now was the time to finally love and protect her, the way he should have done all those years.

_You're not alone, I'm here for you,_he ached to say. But at this state, he was afraid she was still too shocked for the truth to sink in, the way he had been when he first learned of it. She still needed some time to accept all this.

The phone suddenly rang and startled the two.

"What the…" he mumbled in annoyance. "Who could be calling at this hour?"

The irritated look on his face turned to that of dark indignation when Irvine heard the voice at the other end of the line.

_"I've heard you went to see your estranged father, lad."_

_Markkon…_

"How'd you get this number?"

_"I can get whatever I want, lad. As you will soon see."_ Governor Markkon chuckled. Irvine's grip on the phone tightened, with him wishing it had been Markkon's neck. _"So, have you already killed that loathsome degenerate?"_

"Kill…?" Irvine bellowed in surprise. "I'm not friggin' killing anyone, you piece of shit!" His sudden outburst attracted Rinoa's attention. Instinctively, she mouthed the words 'Who are you talking to?' Irvine simply shook his head.

_"Of course, young lad,"_ the governor returned. _"I merely told you that that's what I'd do if I were in your place. And I'd be especially motivated if I've been privy to some information that I think you may want to be aware of."_

"What? That your mother was standing when she gave birth to you and you hit the floor head first as a result that's why you never grew any hair?"

_"Ha-ha!"_ he guffawed scornfully. _"No, this has nothing to do with my mother. But it has everything to do with yours."_

"What?"

_"Specifically, the information I have explains how your mother died. Or to put it more directly, who KILLED her."_

Irvine felt chills running along his spine. "Son of a bitch…"

_"But I apologize for not discussing this over the phone. Someone might be listening in,"_ Markkon continued snidely. _"So why don't you and I have a little talk here in my house. I believe I don't have to give you the address, yes?"_

And before Irvine could lash back, the governor had already disconnected. Putting down the phone, he realized all of the sudden that whatever scheme the governor was concocting, he was definitely in the equation. Irvine hated the thought, and it would have sent him into a torrent of rage if Markkon had not been telling the truth. But the exact opposite was happening. Markkon had been telling the truth. And much as Irvine hated the fact that his origin was about to be used by the governor to further his dark plan, the temptation to learn more about his tumultuous past was more irresistible.

Ultimately, he decided that he wanted to hear what the vile governor had to tell him. If Markkon was indeed using it to manipulate him, that could prove to be Markkon's own undoing. Irvine wasn't naïve, and he certainly can counteract whatever the governor may be planning.

"Where are you going?" Rinoa blurted out when Irvine started for the door. He stopped just short of it to face her. His face bore a combination of anger and apology.

"I… have to see someone. It's important," he said, adding "But I'll be back. We need to talk this over."

She nodded, prompting him to a quick exit.

"I also have to talk to someone." Rinoa picked up the phone. "I'd like to make a reservation. Yes. Express to Deling City."

* * *

"He's on his way," Markkon said as he replaced the phone handset. Before him, a man in white nodded, though his reaction was less than ebullient.

"What does that guy have to do with our plans? You promised that if I cooperated, I would get the chance to get back at those sanctimonious bureaucrats."

Markkon grinned wickedly. "My friend, things like this require patience and meticulous planning. I am quite aware of your eagerness to avenge your humiliation in the hands of those ignorant politicians. Yes, they know nothing more than to overstep their bounds and pretend that they are more knowledgeable than everyone else. And yes, they know nothing more than to play gods with the power mistakenly entrusted on them."

The man in white fidgeted anxiously. He didn't have the patience to listen to another politician with a pathological need to talk lengthily. But he also couldn't deny that Markkon held the helms of the entire plan. A plan he had hinged on to exact vengeance. He had no choice but to be patient.

"But the fact is they have the power. And to try to usurp this without being slapped with a charge of treason, like I said, requires meticulous planning."

"But you've planned long enough. When do I take my turn?"

"You will, my friend. You will," Markkon hissed. "And when that time comes…"

"When that time comes, I will have my revenge!" snarled the man in white. "Laguna Loire will pay dearly for what he did to me!"

**End Of Chapter 18**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19  
**

She was quietly sitting at the desk facing a window that gave her a view of magnificent Esthar City, with her position affording her to see the symmetrical dimension composed of the city's right and left sides. City planners must have been thinking particularly simplistic to call the two sections as such considering the immensity of the size and complexity of the network of main roads, tributaries and transport tubes. To most residents, it posed a simplification that facilitated general travel and navigation. While to others, particularly tourists, it proved to be an inconvenience when they had to improvise just to locate a specific spot within either one of the two immense sections. Such people wished that city engineers would concoct additional measures to further subdivide the sections into smaller subsections.

Ultimately, Ellone didn't care.

She would have been thinking about all these things if she weren't preoccupied by another pressing issue. As her eyes scoped both sides absently, her mind was wandering somewhere else. Recently, a friend of hers in the children's welfare administration that she headed submitted her resignation. Ellone remembered being puzzled by this sudden move, knowing that her friend was among those who counted themselves blessed for being employed by one of the most generously funded government outfits in the world. The pay was more than good and working conditions were almost peerless. It was one of those institutions where people would give an arm and a leg just to get the chance to be employed with.

But Sharni resigned without so much as an explanation. Ellone wouldn't be thinking too much if she hadn't been her friend. At first she thought the cause was a deserved benefit that the welfare outfit failed to provide, but the books were all in the clear with such things. And Sharni happened to be one of the most favored child counselors in the payroll. Outwardly, there was nothing that justified her drastic move of suddenly leaving her position that was envied by many.

Small inquiries did wonders, but Ellone wished she hadn't done so. It appeared that Sharni had come to the brink of an affair with a fellow coworker, a good-looking but generally obscure counselor who very few others in his department knew. Ellone had talked to him, and his words slashed through her soul like no other weapon could possibly do more efficiently.

_"I guess she did the right thing,"_ he had told her. _"I just feel bad that she had to be the one to leave her job. I'd have been willing to do it if we only had the chance to talk."_

_"Why didn't you?"_Ellone asked, still in the dark at that point. At first she thought it futile to talk to the guy who she thought had little in common with her. How could she possibly understand whatever problems he might have had with Sharni?

She was dead wrong.

_"Ellone, talking to each other openly… about that… is the last thing we need,"_ he had answered, followed by words that almost made an overfilled water balloon out of Ellone's head. _"We haven't discussed openly, but I've grown more and more attracted to her during the last couple of weeks. And I strongly believe she feels the same way for me."_

She had looked at him incredulously, half-asking how sure he was and half-wondering if this unassuming man was being more arrogant about himself than what should otherwise be allowed him.

_"Don't give me that face. You think I like this? Of course it goes without saying that I have started to look forward to seeing her every day, and I get thrilled whenever I walk through that door and see her having a cup of coffee in the pantry. She'd wave at me and I'd wave back. It's become a ritual that I've grown to anticipate every single day."_

The man continued telling her of the glances they had both started to accord each other, with both of them trying vainly to make it appear innocent or inconspicuous. Then came the phone calls that seemed to have come out of nowhere, the 'accidental' run-ins in the coffee pantry, and a series of 'stray' emails. There was still no direction to his words yet as far as Ellone was concerned. But then he started talking of sudden cold shoulders and fits of discomfort whenever they were both inside one room. Then came flushed faces whenever they spoke to each other, accompanied by stuttering words uncharacteristic of people who talked to other people for a living. And then, as suddenly as the cold shoulders descended, they were instantly replaced by long moments of just… staring into one another's eyes.

_"One day, Sharni just shook her head at me, packed her stuff, and left the office. It was just ten past two in the afternoon. And next thing I know, she resigned."_

Ellone almost couldn't believe him when he confessed of having fallen in love with Sharni. And she knew her friend. If there was no trace of bull in this guy's words, Ellone could very well conclude that Sharni was beginning to fall for him too. And all of the sudden, she understood why her friend did what she did.

Both of them were married. And happily at that. An affair, or even a potential one, could have destroyed their marriages completely if left unchecked.

Ellone almost felt sorry for Sharni, asking if she had been overly hasty about it. But what did she know, Ellone asked herself. She had never had a boyfriend, so that meant she had never been in a compromising situation like that. What did she know about forbidden fruits and disgraceful liaisons?

And then she realized that she knew more than she thought.

It sounded exciting in the adolescent way, or at least that was how adults always put it, notwithstanding the fact that they were also prone to being taken by such trappings. What she couldn't figure out was if people fell for each other by its natural merits or did it sometimes require certain restricting factors that made the process difficult, but also challenging to the point of escalating its thrill factor. Ellone wondered if the development of love sometimes required elements of forbidden adventure. How many love stories had she heard, read or seen where the two lovers were obstructed by overly strict parents, a religious system, gang rivalry, war, or their own respective partners? Too many, it seemed.

What if the obstruction was coming from within? What if the hampering factor was another form of relationship that rendered any romantic possibility a veritable taboo in the eyes of common folks? What if a girl was starting to develop profound feelings for a man who had stood as her surrogate father?

Ellone should have been at work today. But she called in sick even though she hadn't felt a slight trace of fever. Well, not of the pathological cause, at least. This morning, she got up early to face what she had thought as the most impossible situation anyone could ever encounter. Her fingers where tingling and her face was sweaty, accompanied by a strange, warm feeling engulfing the base of her feet. She had a dream just the night before. A dream of an open field, clear blue skies… and a man waiting on top of a hill. He was waiting for her, and she came for him. He had asked her to come, and much as her rational mind protested, she came. And when he faced her, she felt every reason abandon her helpless mind as it gave in to a calling of a heart that rebelled against conventions.

"Why are we doing this?" she whispered softly, reiterating the words she uttered him in that dream. "This… this isn't right."

He smiled at her, with the smile that had calmed a thousand storms of doubt raging in her heart. His smile looked peaceful and so right, as though in it all the cares of the world had disappeared. And she was aware of the meaning of that smile. She knew that it symbolized a desire her heart had been crying out. _Nothing else should matter. Nothing else matters. All that's important is us. You and me… together._

The feeling was so overwhelming she wanted to scream out loud. Ellone couldn't understand why, of all people, her affection had to turn itself towards a man who shouldn't be more to her than a father. That was what he had always been to her. A gentle uncle… a replacement dad… a man who had protected her as a child. That was what she had always thought him as all that time they were separated.

She had admitted that she loved him. She loved him so much. Was this the reason for this aberrant emotion? Was this the cause of an affection that she knew should never ever be?

Love can take many forms. Love can also be mistaken in many ways. And Ellone didn't know if she was mistaking her love for Laguna as the romantic type because of her immense attachment to him or if in the past she had mistaken her feelings as something benign, clouded by her memories of him as a child. What was true against what was an illusion, she didn't know. And she wanted to know desperately.

So what of it? What if she did learn the truth? What if it turned out that she truly had developed deep feelings for Laguna? How would she handle it? Would she be able to, in the event that this 'love' for him was really of the romantic kind?

And if she were allowed to nurture it, what would the world say? What would Kiros and Ward say? What would Squall say? They'd probably stick her head in a Wendigo kennel and let the beasts knock some sense into her. They'd probably shout at her and tell her to assume her proper place. They'd probably commit her to a mental institution. She'd have done it to herself if given the chance.

Nothing could be more wrong than this.

But her heart was screaming for him. It had been hollering his name since that fateful night two years ago when she realized that they were about to meet again after seventeen long years of separation. Ellone remembered feeling so excited that she forgot she wasn't trained to jump between two ships in the middle of a Maelspike-infested ocean.

She had met him. She had reunited with Laguna. And then Ellone realized that despite that, she was still screaming for him.

And she couldn't. She shouldn't. No one would approve of it.

Maybe that guy was right. Maybe Sharni did the right thing by walking away.

Maybe she should, too.

* * *

He felt strange looking at that picture. Knowing himself, Squall kind of expected nothing to beset him at the sight of that framed photograph with a gentle, blue background, showing Quistis hanging over the wide shoulders of a man he hadn't seen before in his life. He had known Quistis almost all his life, and he felt weird looking at the picture of her cuddling with someone he didn't know. Maybe it was indirect association syndrome. Maybe he thought he ought to be familiar with everything about Quistis because they had been breathing the same air together for so long.

But the strange thing was, he didn't feel this way the first time he saw the picture. In fact, he didn't care at all. Squall now had to ask himself why he was giving so big a deal over knowing that Quistis had loved someone else other than him.

Squall almost laughed. He had always acted as though her feelings for him were a burden. Now he was feeling somewhat resentful for realizing that he was no longer the man in Quistis Trepe's heart.

"He said he was sorry."

"What?" he turned, startled by Quistis' sudden remark. "Say that again?"

"I said, he said he was sorry," she repeated. Squall was surprised to see Quistis sitting on the rocking chair by the porch, with little Kayla sleeping in her arms. "Jo told me that if I ever got the chance, I should tell you that he was sorry for beating you up."

"Jo?"

"Hunter. His first name's Jo. And he said he was sorry."

"Oh…" Squall recalled that painful episode in the Tomb Of The Unknown King when Hunter attacked him by surprise en route to the worst beating he had ever had since his training days with Seifer.

"He'd have gone easy on you," Quistis added, smiling. "But we were on a time table."

"Uh-huh." Squall nodded in his usual, disinterested fashion, seemingly ignoring the comic implication Quistis was making. But his eyes were drawn back to the picture.

"I know what you're thinking. He doesn't look like the type of guy I'd fall in love with."

"Not really," he obliged. "He kinda resembled Sigfried Waller, so no surprises there."

"Really? I didn't realize that." Quistis tried to view the picture from her spot. "No he doesn't. They both have black hair but that's about the only thing that looked alike."

"Ahh, forget what I said. I don't remember how Waller looked anyway," he dismissed, turning to her. "By the way, shouldn't you be staying in bed?"

Quistis mocked an insulted look. "Mr. Leonhart, you of all people should know that your former deputy is a lot tougher than her out-of-shape, post maternal look would otherwise suggest. I know it's only been twenty-four hours since I gave birth but that doesn't mean I can't juice the fangs of an Anacondaur."

Her smile has got to be one of the sweetest he had ever seen. "Out of shape. Yeah, right! You know you don't look any different from how you were last year."

"Oh, I give up. False humility is so lost on you, Mr. Leonhart," she said, looking exasperated. But Quistis instantly snapped back to attention. "But… did you just pay me a compliment? Whatever happened to the Squall-Leonhart-who-thinks-of-Quistis-Trepe-as-a-cafeteria-table?"

"I don't know. I probably got up in my sleep, took him out and beat the crap out of him. So you don't have to worry anymore because evil Squall is dead."

Quistis would laugh if she didn't notice the serious expression in Squall's face. Looking at him, she realized that the words he just uttered carried weight.

"Um… what do you mean?"

Squall felt uncomfortable all of the sudden. He didn't know what pushed him to utter words that he wouldn't even have thought of saying under normal circumstances. But what was his definition of normal circumstances, anyway? Maybe he had considered it normal to treat Quistis as baggage in his life that he had no choice but to live with. He surely had been renowned for this, and Balamb Garden's populace either admired his unusual resistance to her otherwise disarming charm or despised him for being perennially hostile to the most loved personality in Garden. It wasn't that Squall reveled in such a reputation. Like in almost everything, he couldn't care less if people detested his uncaring attitude. Even though his shell had already been pierced, he still maintained the attitude of being unmindful to those who spoke negatively of him.

But this time, all of the sudden, he found himself feeling the need to make amends. He didn't know exactly what brought this about, but he had his set of suspects. The sudden change of heart could have been brought about by that tiny voice that rang melodiously in his ears whenever Kayla cried. He had heard that a baby's cry had the power to sooth even the most hardened heart. On the other hand, it could also be that his recent loss had introduced a sensitivity he had never known before. He was hurt as a child, and because of this he vowed never to feel pain again by numbing himself against all kinds of emotions. It didn't matter what he did or who he hurt in the process. All that was important was keeping himself away from pain.

But he was hurt again. And in the midst of that loss, he might have realized the pain he had been inflicting to others. Especially to those who loved him the most. Quistis certainly fit this bill. And looking back at all the sacrifices she had to endure for his sake, Squall must have realized how foolishly he had been acting all those years.

There was a third suspect, but it was one that he dared not contemplate on. Squall gazed at Quistis' daughter, letting the truth sink into his soul that this child was his. He also admitted that no matter how heartbroken he was for losing Rinoa, this baby's arrival brought him joy… a happiness that he had never felt in his life. To what the exact nature of that happiness was, he was still oblivious. But he couldn't deny it, for somehow Kayla had given an uncanny sense of completeness in his being.

And he owed it all to this woman he had rejected almost all his life.

Now he was confused. He dared not contemplate on this, but he also couldn't deny the sudden tenderness he had started feeling for her. The strange thing was, he wasn't feeling as troubled as he thought he'd be.

"So… was he good?"

"SQUALL!"

"Huh? Oh…! I don't mean THAT." Squall looked befuddled and ashamed for a moment, realizing what his question implied. "I meant, was he good to you?"

"Oh, okay. Heh, sorry about that." Quistis blushed. Whatever made her think that Squall was referring to _that_? "Yeah, he was. I've never met anyone kinder. To me, at least."

"Yeah. A far cry from me, huh."

"Squall, I thought we've been through this," Quistis said, noting the repentant look in his face. "You've apologized, and I've forgiven you… Even though truthfully, I really don't think there's anything to forgive."

It was true, he thought. They had done this dance a few days ago, and Quistis had already forgiven him. Squall remembered feeling a large thorn being pulled out from his chest then. And he was actually quite surprised, not expecting how guilty he had actually felt over his bad treatment of her.

Squall thought it finally ended during that day. But now he sensed a new burden pressing down upon him. And he was sure it had something to do with Kayla. At first his thought was that of fulfilling a responsibility - he was now the father of Quistis' child, and that position naturally brought corresponding obligations. He had thought of offering alimony. But knowing Quistis, he knew she would never accept it. In the end, Squall likewise knew that it wasn't the sense of responsibility that was bothering him.

And the strangest of it all was this faint but distinct sense of envy he was feeling. Or was it resentment? He couldn't tell for sure. But he knew that somehow, he wished he had been in Hunter's shoes. Quistis said Hunter had been very kind to her. Squall was okay with that. After all, Hunter loved her, something that Squall could never say about himself. He didn't have any idea what really happened to the two of them when they fought the incubus, but he was pretty sure it was something special. And he was okay with that.

But he sure wished Quistis had some kind words for him too. He knew he didn't deserve it, but he still wished just the same.

Wishful thinking turned to puzzlement. Why?

"What's on your mind?"

"Huh? Oh…" he stuttered. "Uh… nothing. I'm just… thinking about Kayla."

Quistis grew suspicious, thinking that there was more to his demeanor than he was telling her. But she tried not to show it. "What about Kayla?"

"Well… Have you thought about the last name you're going to give her? Everyone's supposed to have one, you know."

"Leonhart would be nice. After all, she is your daughter. But… no. I don't think that's such a good idea with… well, you know."

"… Rinoa?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah…" he agreed sullenly. "As if that's gonna make a difference."

Quistis felt uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. The last thing she wanted to do now was to involve Kayla in the problem Squall was having with Rinoa. Of course she was already involved, right from the moment of her conception. But the child was also innocent of whatever foolishness her parents had done. And whatever price they had to pay to themselves or to the people they had transgressed, Kayla should not have any part of it.

"Sorry," Quistis said. "Maybe we shouldn't be talking about this now."

"Well… I do have a confession to make. That's not really what I've been thinking about."

_I know,_Quistis thought. And again, she chose to keep it to herself. "What?"

"Kayla growing up without a father."

"Huh?" His words made her chest tremble.

"Don't you think it's weird, considering that I'm still alive?"

"Yeah, um…" Quistis now felt awkward with the way the discussion was turning out.. "Squall… what are you driving at?"

"Okay," he said, obviously trying to relax himself. "All this beating around the bush is getting tiresome, so just listen, okay? And try not to interrupt me before I'm done because this is quite hard on me and I hope you understand. I also need you to understand that I'm just doing this for Kayla and…"

"Squall. You're rambling. Just… get on with it."

_Just get on with it_? Quistis thought, whatever made her say that? She already had a vague idea of what Squall was trying to say. Why did she say _Just get on with it_? She was just as much of a nervous wreck as Squall must have been during that moment.

"All right. Quisty, for Kayla's sake… I kinda think we should get married."

Hearing about the end of the world couldn't have shocked her more.

* * *

"Dad… why?"

This was the moment he had been dreading since Irvine Kinneas walked out of his house. Though he tried to display the same stoic demeanor he had been known for, General Caraway could not deny the frayed nerves that resulted from that fateful meeting. He wished none of this had to happen, but it did. He wished whoever that was who knew the secret and revealed it to those who weren't supposed to know had been killed in a bloody plane crash or devoured by a stray monster, but they didn't. He wished Irvine would have had the sense to keep the shocking revelation to himself, but he didn't.

Now, his beloved daughter was standing before him, distraught by what she had discovered. Ever since Julia died, General Caraway had none other that so much as gave his empty life color but Rinoa. Being left behind by his wife merely five years after their wedding, he was left with no one but his adorable little girl, whom he vowed to love with all his heart from that point on.

But Richard Caraway failed at some point along the way. He had confused contentment with the need to fulfill his duty with no reservation, and in doing so neglected the one source of sunshine in his life. And because of that, Rinoa drifted away from him, and even joined a resistance group in Timber just to spite him. He had asked himself then, how could he be more wrong with his decisions?

The falling away had ended, thanks, ironically, to a SeeD commander who himself had a score to settle with his own father. That wasn't his business, Caraway had thought then. The important thing was he was back in good graces with his beloved daughter. Rinoa was back in his arms again, and he couldn't wish for anything more. That time, he vowed again to never let her drift away from him.

Then the past had to come blasting back with a vengeance. And this time, he was petrified with fear. He knew that he could lose Rinoa over this completely. And those frayed nerves had no business staying attached like that.

"Dad… why did you lie to mom like that?" Rinoa continued, with an anguished face flooded with warm tears. "Why did you lie to us?"

General Caraway didn't know what to say. He knew exactly what to tell her, but if he should tell her or not, that was the big question running in his mind. The call of duty warred with his need to justify the sin he had committed against her and her mother.

In the end, he remembered it was the call of duty that estranged him from her in the first place. And Caraway had vowed after they reconciled that he would never allow it to happen again. He vehemently wished it didn't have to come to this. But since it did, he had no other choice but to tell her everything.

"Rinoa, please understand that I had no other choice."

She shook her head disdainfully. A man who was about to be married was seduced by a former flame who he had claimed meant nothing to him. Carina Menken had been Richard Caraway's beau. Whether he loved her or not was immaterial, Rinoa concluded. The telling factor here was they must have already gone to bed so many times before he broke up with her in favor of Julia Heartilly. To say that he had no choice but to give in to her seduction was utterly ridiculous.

"No… no…" She shook her head vehemently. "That's bullshit, dad. Call me bloody trite but I know that bitch didn't have anything mom didn't have. That's bullshit and you know it!"

"Rinoa…"

"No, dad!"

"Please…"

"I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I ever made up with you! All this time I thought I was wrong in misjudging you. I thought I was wrong in thinking that you love nothing else but yourself. I thought I was wrong in thinking you didn't care a bloody thing about me and all you cared about was your career and your job. I thought I was mistaken when I thought mom died because you didn't have what it took to love her enough!"

A sharp pain tore through his heart after hearing Rinoa referring to her mother. General Caraway wanted to shout back at her, to tell her how unfair she was for judging his intentions towards Julia. But knowing what brought Rinoa barging through his doorway with tears like rivers flowing from her eyes and lips almost broken from all the times she bit into them in despair made him think otherwise. She had every reason to feel betrayed. She had every cause to feel heartbroken.

And it was up to him to let her know the real score.

"Rinoa, I know what I did was wrong. And perhaps even if I tell you everything, you still wouldn't forgive me. But I need you to hear me out first."

She no longer answered, her voice now hoarse from the night in the train where she did nothing but cry. General Caraway felt his heart wanting to break. He felt scorn at himself for allowing his job again to get the better of his judgment, and thus led him to betray the two women he loved. Telling her the truth was the least he could do, and yet he knew it wouldn't nearly be enough.

* * *

"This had better be good."

There was that uncharacteristic scowl in Irvine's face as he faced the governor with the obnoxious grin. He didn't know if it was in character for Governor Markkon to smirk like this or he was just doing this to annoy him. Irvine thought it was rather surprising that this mook was able to convince anyone at all, much less more than half the population of three major cities.

"Would I bother to allot a portion of my precious time for you if this isn't 'good', as your generation would put it? Of course not, lad. I, the honorable Zeilgr Markkon, am here to serve you."

He'd like to serve the moron in a Grendel pig-out party if he had the chance, Irvine scornfully thought. But then he had to remember the reason for coming over. Markkon had just told him that Carina Menken was dead, and he had information on who killed her. He'd have found it incredulous if Markkon hadn't already proven himself. Irvine knew he wouldn't allow himself to do anything but hear the governor out.

"So what's this bullshit about my mother's death?"

"Well, she is already dead, lad. That's no bullshit. Or else I would have introduced you two."

Irvine almost drew his gun. He tried to restrain himself.

"But the juicy part is who killed her, of course," Markkon said, snorting as he went on. "And it surely would be a great injustice for me to withhold this information from you."

"Cut the crap already," the gunslinger snarled. "Out with it!"

* * *

"I didn't realize that Carina somehow knew that I had started seeing your mother months before we broke up," General Caraway continued, observing Rinoa intently as he went on. "You see, I'm not the only one that her family sponsored in the military. There were others, though they were not as closely watched as I am."

Rinoa stared blankly at the ornate shapes adorning the floor. Her mind was in shambles, and she wasn't sure whether to listen to her father or not. His words just continued to enter her ears.

"One of them was quite loyal to her. You probably know about him though he was only a major back them. Lucas Moyet."

The errant general who staged a coup two years ago, Rinoa remembered. So he had a grudge that went as far back as nineteen years ago. So what?

"I wasn't aware that Moyet had wanted Carina for himself, and he had been secretly on my case ever since learning about the two of us. So it goes without saying that he had been on the lookout for anything he could use against me.

"When I started ordering my aide to give Julia a series of courtesy calls, Moyet took note of it all. And it came to a point when he opted to let Carina know whenever I asked Julia to have dinner with me."

Rinoa raised her head slightly and looked into her father's eyes. She didn't know what to feel when she detected no trace of falsity in them.

"Carina at first didn't care. Of course, she was rich, beautiful, and the daughter of Deling City's most powerful family. Surely no upstart lounge pianist who had no name to show for could possibly upstage a woman of Carina's stature. Suffice it to say that Carina was confident I would never leave her for Julia. But…"

General Caraway paused momentarily. His eyes were slightly misted.

"… I fell in love with Julia."

For a moment, Rinoa felt her anger wanting to melt. She looked at her father's face and easily discerned how much he still missed her mother. And briefly, Rinoa felt a strong urge to hold him.

But he still had to answer for his betrayal.

"Well, you know the rest of the story. I didn't care whether the Menkens continued sponsoring me or not. Besides, I was in good standing with the Galbadian Tribunal. I broke up with Carina and courted your mother. It didn't take more than a few months for her to accept the marriage proposal. We got married, and the rest was history."

"But not before you slept with Carina, right?" Rinoa finally spoke out.

"Not exactly accurate," said Caraway, his voice lowering, knowing that the truth was worse than what Rinoa knew. "I… slept with her after your mom and I got married."

"Oh god…"

"Julia was just a month short of delivery when it happened."

Rinoa's voice, still hoarse, bore an eerie resolve when she returned. "Why?"

"I… didn't expect she'd go that far. But that night, Carina went to see me, begging me to go away with her. I refused of course, and I repeatedly told her that I love Julia and I would never leave her no matter what happens. And… that's when things turned ugly."

Rinoa held her breath. She didn't expect the dark tone that smeared her father's voice.

"Up to now I still don't know how she did it. But when I rejected her, Carina suddenly produced files. Top secret files taken from a group of officers who had been plotting against Vinzer Deling."

* * *

"Major Moyet gave those files to Carina, of course. He realized that if he couldn't have her the easy way, he'd do so by having Caraway discovered by Deling and then tried for treason, betrayed by no less than the woman he rejected. But Moyet was sorely mistaken. Carina loved Caraway too much that she couldn't bear the thought of him being bound in front of a firing squad. So she used the files instead to blackmail him into coming back to her."

Irvine could hardly believe what he was hearing. At first he thought the whole thing of his being General Caraway's illegitimate son was born out of a night of pure impetuosity. But it wasn't. It was the fruit of a soon-to-be long drawn plot to overthrow Vinzer Deling. It went wrong along the way when the contemptuous Moyet handed secret files to Carina Menken in hopes of getting rid of Caraway, but she turned against the treacherous officer's plans and ended up using the documents to coerce Caraway into leaving Julia Heartilly. And that, in turn, went wrong as well. And he was the result.

So what did that make of him? A walking, breathing mistake?

There was still that grin in Markkon's face when he continued.

"So your father made a mistake and gave in for one night. But not for long. Caraway also had the mindset of a traitor. Despite having given Carina a portion of what she wanted, Caraway could never leave Julia Heartilly, who was about to give birth to their first child. Still, he knew that your mother had an ace up her sleeve, so he had to do something about it."

"What…" Irvine's voice was now guttural. "What… did… he do?"

"Oh, nothing yet, at first. But here he displayed his own influence. You see, the group of officers he was in connivance with was quite self-righteous in their own right. They abhorred Vinzer Deling's iron hand policies in Galbadia and vowed to end it with whatever means they could concoct. Carina Menken gaining possession of vital and inherently disastrous documents was a terrible setback for them and they had to do something about it. Caraway thought that by sleeping with Carina, he'd gain control of her actions. But that idiot wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He wanted to have everything. He kept the other plotters from doing something bad against Carina but at the same time he also stayed with Heartilly. What did he expect to accomplish with that?"

* * *

"I loved your mother," Caraway continued. "And there's nothing in this world that would stop me from spending the rest of my life with her."

"So… what did you do?"

"I was hoping that a simple scare tactic would silence Carina. It worked at first, and she didn't bother us for a while after you were born. But that didn't last. Julia and I were on the crest of pride for you as you started to learn how to walk. It was around that time when… when Carina came to our house one night and demanded to see me. Good thing your mother was asleep when she came, or else all hell would have broken loose."

Rinoa had been growing anxious as one startling revelation after another unfolded before her. She didn't know if she still had it in her to bear listening to the rest of the grisly tale. But truth had always been compelling no matter how hideous it was.

"She claimed… that night that she was also pregnant. And I could tell that she was. But I didn't care. Her pregnancy was a mistake. Everything was a mistake. And I wouldn't allow any of it to get in the way of my life with your mother… with you both.

"Carina again demanded for me to leave Julia and come back to her, on account that she's bearing my son. I didn't care. I tried to drive her out. But…" His jaws tensed in the recollection. "But… she… had to remind me that she still held our files. And again, she threatened me with it."

Rinoa felt her entirety being covered in ice.

"So what did you do?"

* * *

"Well, I guess at that point there was nothing else General Caraway could do. Like I said, he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He didn't want to leave his precious wife, but he also couldn't allow his secret plot to be compromised. So…"

Irvine was already clutching hard on the Exeter. Together with the murderous truth being revealed before him was a snarling beast inside his soul, viciously fighting for release. And the more the governor talked, the more the beast gained strength. Irvine's face was flushed red and his eyes were almost burning. The beast was just a hairline away from victory.

"He pulled all the stops. He gave his comrades the go signal to rectify their predicament."

He trembled as the beast roared ferociously. Irvine had never known hate this great.

"Ha-ha! Don't you find it funny?" Markkon snidely remarked, unfazed by the fearsome monster about to be unleashed in front of him. "This secret plot had been going on for years, just waiting for the right time to happen. Everything got messed up along the way because of a woman scorned, and YOU came out as a result. IRONICALLY, more than a decade later when that self-serving, sorry excuse for a human decided to finally carry out the plot to assassinate Vinzer Deling, YOU were included in the messed up deal that spawned you in the first place. Of course, Squad Pi Alpha failed. You never got a hand at it. But YOUR sanctimonious father continued to use YOU, the unfortunate product of a series of mistakes, as cannon fodder together with a pathetic group of youngsters that happened to include your own sister. He used YOU to eliminate the sorceress that also turned out to be YOUR surrogate mother, all for the purpose of serving his self-centered ends."

Irvine's chest had turned into a bomb that could explode any second. In his rage, he was liable to kill anyone within striking distance. But strangely enough, he couldn't even lay a hand on Zeilgr Markkon.

"And the gem of all ironies of course is YOU ended up cooperating with THE MAN WHO GAVE THE ORDER TO HAVE YOUR MOTHER KILLED!"

**End Of Chapter 19**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20 **

He knew it was bad. But until this time, Irvine had no idea how evil the truth really was.

Instinctively, the index finger twitched, reacting to the raw atrocity spiking the words that assaulted his ears. As though assuming a life of its own, the slender appendage exposed by leather cladding that protected only the palm of his right hand quivered restlessly, the thousands of minute nerve endings jutting out from its tip screaming a unified desire to feel the cold, curved surface of a trigger.

It was Irvine's primal instinct as a man who slept with bullets. It was his natural reaction to a stimulus that brought frigid fires battering through his enraged mind. What he had heard had been nothing short of mind-numbing, and the first response bellowed the desire to kill his assailant.

But the man that stood before him did nothing but bring him the truth, didn't he? As he bore into Zeilgr Markkon's grinning eyes, Irvine warred against the thought bent on murder. The revelation that pierced his heart had come from this arrogant man who seemed to derive joy from his suffering. If only for this, Markkon deserved a slug through his skull. But in his hate, the gunslinger knew that killing the messenger would net him nothing.

But he also knew that his hate required killing. And the only way to do this was to kill the real source of the hate.

General Caraway.

Markkon was right all along. Caraway deserved to die.

Irvine turned to Markkon, who then voiced out his obvious choice.

"Kill him," he said. Curtly and apathetically. "You have no choice but to kill him. If you don't, the hatred in your heart will consume your soul and rob you of your sanity."

A low-pitched growl in his gut agreed, resonating in unison with his fury. Irvine groped for the hilt of the Exeter and with his trigger finger, unlatched the safety switch.

"I will… kill him."

The voice that escaped his mouth had the same hoarseness as that reverberating in his raging mind. It was altogether different and foreign, as though it belonged to someone else. And all of the sudden, Irvine was puzzled.

"What…?"

Markkon nodded. "Yes, you will."

_Kill him? _Kill General Caraway?

All of the sudden, he was wondering how those words came out of him.

"Why…? Why would I kill him?"

"Why? WHY, you ask?" Markkon boomed. "Because for the plain and simple fact that he killed your mother. For the unequivocal truth that if it had not been for him, you would have been living a simple, peaceful life with Carina Menken. You wouldn't have had to go through all the miseries of a child that had no choice but to cry alone in the corner of a room filled with people who don't want to have anything to do with you. You wouldn't have to bask in the false glory of a hero of the world that in truth had nowhere to call home."

Irvine clenched his jaws. The truth hurt him.

"You wouldn't have been branded among the Fated Children. For the essence of the Fated Children is a life with no past. You would have had a past. But General Caraway took that away from you when he killed your mother."

And much as he hated it, nothing came out of Markkon's mouth but the truth, however spiteful he delivered it. General Caraway did deny him his past by taking away the one person who would have given him his own identity. By ordering the death of Carina Menken, General Caraway consigned Irvine to a life that was not his own, but was common to all children who had been robbed of a heritage that would otherwise have made each of them unique and dignified. He had robbed him of the color of his own legacy, of his own name. He had left him with nothing more than a borrowed home, a borrowed name, and however it tried to fill the void, borrowed affection. Irvine had always appreciated the love and caring given him by the Kramers. But he also had always felt them somehow short. He felt there should have been something more.

The touch of his mother. The touch that he would have grown up with and shaped his life into something better than what he had. But General Caraway took it all away.

But should that mean that he could just kill him?

Irvine shook his head. The thought of it all seemed so attractive, but deep in his heart, he knew that he was raised better than this. The same affection that he had known, though borrowed, had imparted upon him an ethical code that had forbidden the use of killing for anything that didn't serve duty, justice, or the preservation of life. Yes, he was a killing machine, and an effective one at that. But like his comrades, he had carefully treaded the line that separated killing from simple murder. Like his friends, he had never killed for killing's sake. Or for revenge. The principle had become a guiding light that directed Balamb Garden's policy on accepting missions and they had all abided by it strictly.

Irvine would never murder anyone for revenge.

"No."

"What did you just say?" Markkon said, stupefied. He couldn't accept what he had heard.

"No," Irvine repeated. His voice was shaky, but nevertheless resolved. "I may hate his guts. But I will never descend to his level. If you want him dead, do it yourself."

And with that, he started walking towards the door. The hatred was still seething inside him, but deeper in his heart, Irvine knew he was doing the right thing.

But someone didn't quite agree.

_"YOU STUPID IDIOT!_

"Unh!"

_"What's all this crap about descending to anyone's level? You think you actually have a good side? You moron!"_

"What the…!"

Irvine was startled to hear the voice ringing inside his head. It tore across his mind like a jagged scythe that burned with toxic radiation, cutting through it with searing pain. Taken aback, he quickly clutched his head while staggering back, as though he had been pushed away from the door and back into the room.

_"You're more deluded than we thought. You've actually started to believe you're some kind of altruist. Have you totally forgotten what we've agreed on before?"_

Cold fear ran through his body and stilled him like a statue. He had felt a deeper presence inside him that at first he had dismissed as a side effect of the experiment Dr. Odine performed on him six months ago. It scared him, but he tried to shake it off then. It never manifested again to his relief.

But that was before today. Back then, it sounded as merely that of a dark conviction gone awry. Drug-related perhaps? Most probably. Doctor Odine had been known to use drugs that induced dream-reality to his subjects. Its side effects had been known to last awhile. But not this long. If it was caused by that experiment, it should have worn off a long time ago.

_"You're doing it again, you oaf! Stop denying me. Stop denying who you are!"_

His hands gripped on his head tighter, as though he was in pain. The hot sensation worsened as Irvine tried to exorcise the voice.

_"Stop fighting me. I am you. I always have been. And I am a killer. We are. You are. And you cannot deny the truth of your hatred. You cannot defy the truth of my existence. We live to kill. We live to hate. We live to erase what we hate. And you cannot turn your back on our hatred for the one who turned his back on us and killed our mother. My mother. Your mother. You know in your soul how much you despise him, how badly you want to see his eyes rolled up in lifeless surrender. You know in your heart how you desire to see him dead."_

"N… No…" Irvine stuttered. He tried, but however gallant his efforts, the voice assaulting his psyche was beginning to prove stronger. He could not muster the strength to drive out the sinister echoes.

_"YES!"_

"Aaaahh!" went a guttural groan that seemed to have welled up from his soul. Frightened, Irvine desperately groped around, as though searching for a weapon to be used against the invading consciousness.

That was when he saw Zeilgr Markkon. Irvine was surprised at the glaring eyes the governor had fixed on him. Markkon's suddenly fiery eyes were cemented on his, seemingly boring deep into his mind and soul. He felt hot fires coming from Markkon's eyes as though they were stabbing bolts of hate.

Markkon spoke out. "Do not resist, lad. It is futile."

It then dawned on Irvine. Was Markkon responsible for the voice? Was he the one inducing the uncanny presence now vying to take over him? But how? How could he be doing it?

_Mind control?_

But how could that be possible? Markkon had no powers. He had no junctions. And he certainly did not wield the embodiment that gave sorceresses great powers of the mind. Irvine had not known the governor to possess such abilities. If it was him, how could he be doing this?

"I have tried to convince you, but you would not acquiesce. I am sorry, but you have to do as you're told."

"No…!" Irvine struggled. "No!"

"You will kill General Caraway."

"NO!"

But as Irvine objected, to his horror he found his body acting to commands that were not his. Chilling fear continued to engulf the gunslinger upon feeling the forces that were starting to manipulate his subconscious. It was like trying to control the fury of a mad dog using mere words. His mind screamed and shouted and cussed desperate words, words that fell on proverbial deaf ears that were his to begin with. His hands moved without his consent, his feet lifted without his knowing. His thoughts hollered words of evil that by his own, he could not even bring himself to say.

_"You arrogant, wretched fool! It is I who own you, and not the other way around. How foolish of you to think that you owned your soul. How utterly stupid of you to believe the false person that you thought you are!"_

Irvine was horrified. He was beginning to lose control.

_NOOOO!_

_" Mulish cretin! I am you! You cannot fight me!"_

_'I am you?'_For one terrible moment, Irvine questioned if it was true. There had to be a reason why he chose the gun to be his weapon. An impersonal, cowardly weapon that struck from afar and therefore spared the user of the perils of actual battle. A long-range weapon that can deal instant death in the blink of an eye.

Was it him? Was it his desire to inflict quick death from a safe distance? He had never questioned it in the past. But now he just had to ask if the voice resonating in his mind was just a side effect of unwanted drugs or was indeed a subconscious reflecting the innermost desires and fears he had always held on to. The gun was an instrument of quick death. A bullet in the head made sure of it. Why would he want to inflict quick death? What manner of hatred did he have in his heart to covet such power?

_"I am hate. I am you."_

Was the fact that he was born out of a mistake spawned the hidden hatred that made him pick up a rifle? Did the truth that his father loathed him from the start and his mother lived the rest of her life in scorn and had it ended in betrayal give birth to a deep-seated evil that sought to erase his enemies and see everyone through the crosshair as a shadow of those enemies that he eagerly wanted to erase?

Was the voice in fact telling the truth?

_"That's right. Accept that we are one."_

But then… even if he was born of hate, the mere fact that he was born cast a shadow of doubt to this hate that had been trying to claim dominion of his life. If everything about him and around him had been spawned by hate, why did his mother choose to give him life? And isn't life born out of love?

And what about Selphie? What about Zell, Rinoa, Squall, and Quistis? What about Cid and Edea Kramer?

They all loved him. And he loved them in return.

His life wasn't about hate. At least it didn't turn out to be that. There had been people who loved him.

Forget about the gun. He had known love.

To hell with that damnable voice!

_NEVER!_

_"IDIOT!"_

_I WON'T… I WON'T KILL!_

Unknown to him, sharp mental spikes fired like poison arrows and assaulted his assailant. He only became aware of it when he heard groans of frustration that were not his.

_"Cease this useless objection, you idiot! You cannot best me! You cannot best yourself!"_

"BOY, IT IS USELESS TO RESIST!"

_NOOOO!_

His mind was in the fight of his life. The voice was too mighty. The enemy was too strong. But Irvine would not give in. He could not. Despite the pain, he fought to resist and reject the voice that had claimed unity with him. He just couldn't accept it.

But the enemy was stronger.

"STOP RESISTING! I ORDER YOU TO STOP RESISTING!"

And it was winning.

_NOOOOOOOOOOO!_

_"YEEESSSSS!"_

It was the last harrowing echo before the darkness descended.

* * *

If Laguna had been less than sensible, he would already have fired the Presidential Palace's resident physician. His was a simple case of headache; at least that was what he told the doctor. The latter argued that he could possibly be suffering from acute high blood pressure judging from the dull pains at the back of his neck. But Laguna wouldn't accept it. He may already have been in the 40s but that didn't make him a man old enough for hypertension. Besides, he worked out regularly. He had been doing so ever since quitting from the Galbadian army.

He knew the pressure was coming from his job. Being president had always been tough, yes. But he had always managed to cut it since ascending to power following the imprisonment of Sorceress Adel.

But then, he didn't have to contend with the tumultuous events that had been riddling the political arena since Zeilgr Markkon started becoming an asshole. Now, as he stared blankly at the huge electronic pipe organ he had always been fond of playing, Laguna was battering his brain incessantly. How could he get rid of the Governor without inviting a political scandal the size of the Esthar continent?

Assassination? Covert ops? Frame up? All seemed sensible if they didn't sound ridiculous. Laguna had never subscribed to such underhanded schemes. And he had sworn long ago to himself that no matter how bad the situation had turned, he would never ever resort to the evil that he sought to vanquish when he helped the Anti-Adel resistance.

But what should he do about the Winhill miscreant? What could he do to prevent the Governor from pulling another stunt similar to that one in Timber a couple of days ago?

Laguna almost found it funny. He was the leader of the most powerful nation in the world. And yet he was starting to appear putty before the machinations of a small town governor. Irony? Or was it the fruit of a vile genius behind the scenes?

He thought of the counterattack he had put in motion. Would it be enough? Would the operatives he deployed as fail-safes be up to the task in case the situation turned hairier than it already was?

Laguna then thought of the 'other' problem that had been bothering him. He had tried to avoid dealing with it in light of the current situation. Even though he thought that she deserved his attention, he vehemently denied her, evidently against his more biased judgment. It had been a few days and he already missed talking to Ellone. But he had more pressing concerns. And besides, doing so right now would be distracting. And he cannot afford to be distracted.

Across the room, Kiros and Ward stood silently, waiting for him to talk. Each of them had just handed some papers that Laguna had dropped on the floor carelessly after reading. One of them contained intelligence reports collected by agents that had been keeping eye on Winhill's new military academy, the Citadel. The intelligence report wasn't very encouraging from his point of view.

_Preliminary surveillance reveals increased para-magic activity within the perimeters of the Citadel. Or at least that's what we thought. We have employed devices modified from the lab tools Dr. Odine used in past experiments with magic levels and have measured off-the-scale readings in the level of para-magic being employed by Citadel cadets._

_Spectrum 3-1 initial psychic force echelon beta-30. Registers level 4 para-magic usage among novice class cadets and inductees. Equivalence in Garden gradient: Tornado class._

_Spectrum 3-2 initial psychic force echelon gamma-1012. Readings detected measuring level 6 para-magic usage among intermediate students. Equivalence in Garden gradient: Ultima class._

_Spectrum 3-3 initial psychic force echelon gamma-9999. Semi-expert level cadets graded. Results beyond measurable conventions. No equivalence in Garden gradient. Odine standard assessment likewise off the scale. Logical conclusion: Sorceress class. Para-magic term rendered irresolvable._

_Further remarks: Galbadian standard nil. Trabian standard nil. Esthar standard nil. No Guardian Forces utilized. Power levels considered extremely dangerous. Source: unknown._

Why had Markkon been developing warriors with power levels equal to sorceresses? What was he up to? And most importantly, how could he possibly accomplish such a thing?

"Markkon is looking to start a rivalry," he said grimly. "He's developing weapons, obviously to match up against Garden and Esthar. I never considered such a thing could be possible but… well. You've seen the reports."

"Scary stuff," said Kiros. "Teenagers with less training than Garden students but wielding power levels equal to Adel's. He's not looking to start a rivalry. He's preparing for a war. The question is, how is he planning to trigger it?"

"…" Ward nodded.

"Uh-huh. Starting A War 101, every hardened politician has a Ph. D. on it. Assassinate a key official, sudden occupation of a defenseless territory. Old Vinzer Deling stuff, only more subtle."

"And what could be more subtle than black propaganda and goading the masses to armed uprising?"

"Timber. Deling City. And by the looks of it, Trabia may be next."

"…..."

"Exactly," Laguna concurred with Ward. "The petition for the lumber trade embargo our Trabian agents uncovered sure looks like a cover up. What do you think we should expect next?"

Kiros shook his head slightly. "Balamb still looks stable, thanks to Headmaster Cid's ties with city hall. But our eastern sector is growing a little restless. Senator Eason is making some noise about under-the-table support campaigns for Markkon. If I were you I'd have him arrested."

"No. That would be too scandalous," Laguna objected. "Besides, Eason's got another interest. As long as we don't play with him, he's relatively harmless when it comes to this Markkon controversy. Let's leave him to the southerners. Our main concern right now is the Citadel."

"…?"

"Yeah, I already tried asking Cid," Laguna answered. "Strangest thing. When I told him about the surveillance reports, he fell silent and almost hung up on me."

"You think he knows something?"

"I'd hate to think he does and he's holding back on us. I trust him."

"Hell, we all do, Laguna," Kiros retorted. "But I don't think it's wise to leave any stones unturned, not with things this touchy."

"Are you suggesting we also scrutinize the Headmaster?" Laguna shook his head. "No. I trust him with my life. This does suggest that he's doing something beneath our notice…"

"Despite the non-interference directive you and Richard gave them."

"Yeah. But if he is defying that directive, I don't blame him. His neck is as much on the line as ours. Richard and I gave them that order to try and contain the hotheaded ones. But if Cid decides to ignore it, I'm okay with that. Better him than Seifer Almasy."

"…" Ward pointed out. Kiros nodded.

"Yeah."

"I know, Seifer's disappeared and no one knows where he's been hiding."

"And you're not bothered?" Kiros asked. "I don't mean to question your judgment, but despite being allegedly 'rehabilitated', once a snake, always a snake. I still remember how he turned against his own school two years ago."

Laguna thought deeply, thinking that maybe he should be concerned about Seifer. But strangely enough, he wasn't.

"No. I can't explain it at the moment. But something's telling me to lay off Seifer and let Cid worry about him. He's a wildcard, and I hate wildcards. But… let's just leave this to Cid."

"And the Citadel?"

"Well, since it appears Cid knows something that he's not telling us, I'm tempted to let him worry about it too. But I can't…"

"I know," Kiros said. "If it wasn't in Winhill, it would have been a different story, huh."

Despite the grim proceedings, Laguna managed to let out a smile. "You know me too well, bud."

To his surprise, Kiros shook his head.

"Well, no. At least not about this thing. I ought to still think that you're protecting Winhill for _her_. But, well… you know what I'm driving at."

Laguna didn't answer. Despite his disagreement, Kiros did know him too well. At least he knew him enough to recognize that Winhill's worth was not anymore dictated completely by Raine's memories. Kiros knew that now, the sentiment had taken a more active involvement, with ties to someone a lot more alive than the late pub owner and mother of his son.

And Laguna wished Kiros didn't have to touch on the subject.

"Um… would you happen to know where she is?"

Kiros just smiled. "She's in her room. Word is she hasn't been reporting to work for a couple of days now."

Ignoring his reservation, Laguna took Kiros' words as a cue and promptly stood up. Ward gestured in response.

"…"

Laguna didn't know what to think of it.

"I second," Kiros agreed. "Laguna, don't mind us, okay? It's just an old habit of making you look stupid. Whatever you choose to do regarding her, do it. You have our blessing."

"Thanks, guys," he said with a smile before walking out of the door.

* * *

This was her room. For as far as she could remember, this had always been her room. Never mind the fact that she had spent most of the last year in a Garden single-room quarter given to her as benefit of being a member of SeeD. Whenever she needed to be alone, to relax away from SeeD work, or simply to catch up with her father, Rinoa would come home to her house in Deling City and stay in this same room that she had always called her home within her home.

All of the sudden, this same room had felt like a stranger to her. All of the sudden, she didn't feel at home anymore, as though the vast, four-walled chamber decorated with trinkets and memorabilia from her childhood and early teen years - like her stuffed toys, girlie board games, magazines, the computer she had used in 4th grade Computer Ed - had become foreign territory. It was like she didn't belong here anymore.

All of the sudden, she didn't know anything anymore.

Having discovered tightly guarded dark secrets about her father had given her the feeling that her world wasn't as it appeared. Like her world had suddenly been revealed as a counterfeit where she really didn't fit in. There had been so much that she didn't know, and all of it was suddenly revealed to her in an explosive moment when she discovered that her father, the one she had a falling away with years ago, and the one she reconciled with just last year, had at one time in his life been a cold-blooded murderer.

Rinoa still couldn't accept it. Memories of warnings and cautions given her way by old friends Zone and Watts came back to her, of how she should be wary about her father's clandestine activities. As a high-ranking military officer, they guessed it was natural for General Caraway to hold such secrets. She had taken it then with a grain of salt, and told herself that it was typical. Besides, what business did she have with her father's affairs as long as it didn't get in her way?

How grossly mistaken she was, Rinoa thought grimly. And as she lay face down on the suddenly unfamiliar bed, with her face buried in a pillow and drenched with tears, Rinoa tried to consider her next course of actions. Would she abandon her father now, knowing that the very reason she had sulked about then even though thinking that they were unfounded was in fact true? Would she tell him how disgusted she was to know that her 'honorable' father could do something dishonorable like order the liquidation of a defenseless woman? Would she demand that he pay for his crimes? Would she try to drag him before a brother she never knew she had, and force him to apologize on bended knees?

Rinoa was tired of crying. Ever since learning about Squall's betrayal, she had been crying almost endlessly and without rest. Her eyes stung and her chest felt heavily laden, as though she had just inhaled an anvil. Never in her life had she encountered a slew of personal crises like this, and being betrayed by the two most important men in her life tormented her like nothing ever did.

The way she felt right now, there was nothing else she could do but to walk away. But to where? Squall was gone, driven away from her life. She couldn't possibly see Irvine, not with the grave secret she held about his mother's tragic death. Selphie? She didn't feel like sharing loads with someone who also had too much on her shoulders. Zell had been incommunicado. And Edea seemed so distant as of late.

Finding herself on her feet, Rinoa unwittingly strode towards that room where, two years ago, she was almost locked in to prevent her participation in a most sensitive assassination operation. She didn't know why in the world did she choose to come here. The way she felt right now, seeing her father, whom she believed to be inside that room, was the last thing she needed. But despite protestations, her bare feet continued to lead her towards General Caraway's office. Tired eyes gazed at the brass doorknob as her shaking hands tried to twist it open. Unusually, it wasn't locked.

_Atop a structure located at the center of this great city, a shadow sat peacefully with his legs crossed. His breathing was deep and steady, meant to still his mind and steady his hands. Eyes calm and yet alert, the lithe figure nonchalantly removed the beige jacket he had been fond of wearing. Choppy winds blew from behind, spraying brown hair all over his face. With the same calmness, partially gloved hands swept his face clear of his long, brown hair._

She saw him standing by the window, staring out in the dark distance. Rinoa had seen him in that pose too many times than she'd care to remember. Now, she hardly cared at all that he was in his familiar spot. Like in her bedroom, everything in this room seemed different now. It was the cruel effect of a battered mind that thought it knew everything but didn't. Like in her bedroom, she no longer belonged here.

Would that mean she no longer belonged to him too? Rinoa hurt at the thought. He may have committed atrocious acts. He may have betrayed her. But he was still her father. And she still loved him dearly.

Maybe that was why it hurt so much. Maybe that was why she felt she had to go away. She couldn't bear hurting anymore.

General Caraway turned to her. His eyes were tearful, surprising her. This was only the second time she had seen him in tears. The first time was when her mother died, fourteen years ago.

But that hardly mattered.

"I loved your mother so much…"

Or did it?

"Is that why you did it?" Rinoa asked, moved by her father's unusual display of emotion. "Is that why you killed Carina in cold blood? To stay with mom?"

Caraway didn't answer. She took it that his silence meant a yes. But she was too far gone with the pain that had he been audible, it still wouldn't matter.

And he was aware of it.

"Rinoa, I'm so sorry for betraying you. I'm…"

"You betrayed me," she said, the weight in her voice screaming with pure sorrow. "You betrayed me. Squall betrayed me… I want to stay, but… I don't feel like I belong here anymore. I loved Squall… so much that I'd give me life for him. But he betrayed me, and… I couldn't possibly live with his betrayal. I don't know if I'd survive knowing that the man I loved with my life had been unfaithful."

_Through the crosshair, he saw the sorrow in her eyes, and it almost broke his heart. If only for her, he may reconsider._

_But he couldn't._

_He uttered a short apology._

_A gleaming rifle was pulled out from his beige jacket._

"Dad… I love you. I… always will. But it hurts so much. I have to go away…"

"I know," he said, turning away. She didn't see the bead that fell from his eyes.

Heaviness again prevailed as she turned around. The door was facing her square in the face. Rinoa looked at it, and was suddenly overwhelmed by fear. She didn't know why, but she felt an uncanny feeling that the moment she walked out of that door would be her last. Was she ready for finality?

Walking out. Out of Squall's life. Out of her father's life. Betrayed by the two men she loved the most. Her dreams shattered like brittle glass struck by a sledgehammer… Rinoa wondered… how could things be any worse?

***PAK!***

The noise startled her. It sounded like a pebble hitting a mirror. Rinoa quickly turned around.

"Unh… R-Rinoa…"

Nothing could have prepared her to the sight of her father, General Caraway, clutching his left chest with both hands. Blood was gushing out through his fingers.

"DADDYYY!"

Another crack rang out, shattering another hole through the glass window. The projectile that went through it punctured through the back of General Caraway's head, with power and velocity enough to drive it all the way to the other side in less than a millisecond, cleanly exiting through his forehead and taking pieces of his brain with it. Rinoa's breath escaped her as she felt blood and minute pieces of skull and gray matter spraying all over her face.

_He hardly felt the recoil of the rifle even after pulling the trigger twice. He likewise didn't put it down, continuing to peer through the telescopic device as though admiring his brutal handiwork._

_Deep in his heart, a trace of doubt formed while he watched Rinoa quivering violently as she held her lifeless father close to her. He watched her, face contorted in anguish, mouth wide open as though bellowing a horrendous scream. Of course, he couldn't hear her._

_He then trained his sight on the dead man whose head was soaked with its own blood. And he felt satisfied._

_"That's for my mother, you son of a bitch."_

**End Of Chapter 20**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter XXI**

"THERE! Someone's making a break for the park!"

Heavy footsteps coming from metal-lined boots were heard from as far as the shopping center, as a battalion of Presidential Guards scampered after the shadow trying to flee the area near the Deling City archway. There were fifty-four troops who responded to the call of the Guard captain who earlier was jolted by a blood-curdling scream that came from General Caraway's receiving office.

That scream belonged to Rinoa Heartilly. The captain saw her with her father's lifeless body in her blood-soaked arms. His stomach almost turned inside out upon noticing pieces of Caraway's brain and fragments of skull on the floor in the midst of puddles of blood. It wasn't hard to spot the window with the two bullet holes.

An assassin had just killed the president.

Fifty-four soldiers belonging to the Guard Corps were giving chase through the park whose lighting system had suddenly failed. Engulfed in darkness, all they had to help them see the fleeing assassin was the bright glow of the full moon. Was the power outage a coincidence? Not likely. All assassins made sure they had arranged for an escape route prior to the hit.

And this one wasn't only prepared. He was also laughing.

_Come and get me, you twerps!_

He was unusually swift and agile. Not one soldier cried out to inform his comrades that he just saw the culprit darting out from a cluster of trees. Two seconds later, another one would claim that he had seen him, running back on the opposite direction. He was fast and clever, and clearly doubling back on his tracks to confuse his pursuers. He didn't even bother to worry about those who stayed outside to close off the park. Even if he escaped the troops in the woods, what would he do against the ones waiting for him to come out?

"Quickly, turn the lights on!"

He heard the command from an officer he'd known to have three daughters. It was so tempting to just shoot the clown. But the poor man had three daughters. He relented. Killing one girl's father was enough for one night. He aimed instead for the lights.

"Dammit!"

One pop after another reverberated, simultaneous with the sound of shattering 5-inch thick lens covers. One by one, the huge spotlights that had the ability to focus for miles died very noisy deaths, killed by slugs similar to the one that punched a hole through General Caraway's head. He wanted his cover of darkness.

But there will be more lights, he thought, until this place turned so bright monsters could see it from the moon. And that disadvantage he didn't need. It was time to blow this joint.

_Asta la vista, suckers!_

"Son of a bitch!" hollered another soldier as a swift figure suddenly darted out from the bushes before him. He tried to reach for his sidearm, probably not realizing how futile it was against a figure who ran like a gazelle. Quickly establishing a safe distance between him and his pursuers, the assassin jumped into the driver's seat of a waiting off-road vehicle, the kind used by the Galbadian military. It was the type that had a hard top. Good for him. There was a spare trooper helmet on the front passenger seat. Too good for him. Somebody obviously arranged for his escape.

He drove around the park for one lap, occasionally shouting at other soldiers he encountered to try the other side. It made him look like a safety guard. Not one of the mobile units flagged him down.

One sharp turn to the left, and he was gone.

It was already late morning when Irvine woke up to the glare of a bright sun. As his eyes opened, he felt a gnawing exhaustion engulfing his entire body, as though he had just participated in the annual Timber 100-mile marathon. He tried to lift his arms, they radiated a dull ache. Did he just run using his hands?

"Ohh… What the…?"

Slowly getting him, he then noticed that he was inside a vehicle. A military issue off-roader, he could easily tell from its interior that was bare of amenities save for a radio unit that continued to buzz with indiscernible static. What was he doing here, he asked himself. He couldn't remember what happened the night before.

His right hand felt a cold, metallic object. A rifle butt. The Exeter was right there at the passenger seat. It was soiled badly, as though he had rolled it on dirt. And the hilt had traces of blood on it.

_What the hell happened…?_

Thinking hard, he then remembered the last thing that he saw prior to losing consciousness. _Markkon…?_ his mind cried out. But there was no Markkon. And he wasn't in a mansion in Winhill. What the hell was he doing inside an army vehicle?

His head ached; a terrible throb that felt like his brain was about to burst. Despite the pain, he tried to think hard, to recall what had transpired.

Irvine then remembered the voice that talked from inside his head. He recalled the stabbing gaze that Markkon fixed on him, and consequently remembered how his body tried to act on its own. Markkon tried to control his mind, through some force of telepathy. Frantic questions started coming in as everything came back to him. Markkon commanded him to kill General Caraway, claiming that it was the right thing to do to the man who had killed his mother. Irvine almost agreed. With his hatred for Caraway, he had no reason not to.

But he refused. He couldn't kill anyone in cold blood, unless it was some terrorist or dictator a client ordered liquidated. And he certainly couldn't kill the father of one of his closest friends.

Closest friends?

No. Rinoa was his sister. And no matter how much he hated Caraway, he couldn't do that to Rinoa. He cared about her too much.

But… mind control?

_Oh no..._ Irvine's thoughts suddenly blared in terror. If Markkon did try to control his mind and his body through it, could he have succeeded? If he had, would that mean he actually tried to kill General Caraway?

Tried?

The radio!

"_Everything is in total disarray here in Deling City as citizens reel from the shocking news of General Caraway's brutal murder. Galbadian troops are roaming the city, hoping to find anything or anyone that might shed light or offer information that might lead to the capture of the shooter. But so far, they have found nothing."_

Irvine froze. General Caraway was shot dead.

_Could… could it be…_

Even in thought, he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. 'Me?' His mind ached to ask. But he was too frightened. What if it was him? What if Markkon had succeeded in controlling him and ordered him to murder General Caraway?

"_Hold on a minute, we have a development!"_ Noises of frantic crowds mixed with stern warnings coming from police and soldiers for them to stay beyond police lines. It sounded bad, sounded like total chaos. What was the reporter talking about?

"_We have Corporal Eiling here of the Presidential Guard corps assigned to interior residence detail. Corporal, would you care to answer some questions? We've just heard that an operative from Balamb Garden was responsible for shooting General Caraway. Can you comment on this?"_

_Friggin' hell…_

The soldier's voice sounded stiff as he answered straightforwardly. _"There've been eyewitness accounts of the shooter casing the crime scene as early as 9 PM last night. We questioned the witnesses and…"_

There was a pause in the soldier's voice.

"_And what, Corporal?"_

It was obvious he was having difficulty talking. _"And… they said it was Irvine Kinneas of Balamb Garden."_

NO!

"_Irvine Kinneas?"_ the reporter echoed in amazement. It was obvious he found it hard to believe. _"What proof did they have of such claims?"_

"_They said something about a light brown jacket, cowboy hat, and a stainless steel rifle. I've had a chance to meet Mr. Kinneas, and those descriptions fit him to a T."_

"_So is it official? Irvine Kinneas is the alleged shooter?"_

There was also annoyance in Eiling's voice as he continued. _"He's a suspect, that's all I can tell you."_ After which the noise of the crowd took over again, drowning the reporter's voice as the corporal seemed to have walked out on him.

But the din didn't seem so loud anymore. Everything seemed to have stilled to a soundless nightmare as Irvine felt himself melting like candle. So…

So Markkon had succeeded. He had won in the mind game. He had turned him into a murderer.

Murderer of his own father.

What… what have I done…?

Irvine shook his head hard. It couldn't have been true. He would never do such a thing. Yes, he had shot targets from a distance, but most of these he had only injured. Some not seriously, some quite critically, and some who wished he had just killed instead for rendering them a paraplegic with a bullet through the spine. And indeed, there had been others whose lives he snuffed on the spot. But these targets were either terrorists, hopeless criminals or latent tyrants and dictators. And these were those whose deaths meant saving the lives of countless innocents. Even if he had killed, he had done so for the greater good. None who ever received his bullet didn't deserve their fate.

How could he do a thing like cold-blooded, meaningless murder, even if it was General Caraway?

How could he have done such a thing? Even in the name of vengeance.

…

_NO! NOOO!_

Distraught sobs filled the vehicle when Irvine broke down. He didn't know what to think of himself. All he sensed was the dirt and the filth, the chilling guilt of one who had just done the most atrocious transgression. What would he do to himself now? How in the world could he face Rinoa and his friends? What would Headmaster Cid do to him? Would they accept the excuse that General Caraway deserved it because he had killed his mother? What proof did he have other than the words of one who clearly meant to destroy them anyway?

Markkon meant to destroy Garden, and anyone who stood in its defense. And he made no secret to the fact that he wanted Caraway dead. And now, Caraway was dead. And he had been the murder weapon.

All of the sudden, it all fell into place. The governor had revealed him dark elements of his past that was designed to make him hate General Caraway. It may have turned out to be true, but at this moment it hardly mattered. Markkon had meant to use the hatred as foothold to manipulate him. And Markkon did just that. Mind control could only go so far if the manipulator didn't have anything to hinge his scheme on. And Markkon had the perfect tool to grapple his subconscious.

He was played and he was played real good. Now, Irvine was a murderer. He had murdered a world leader. He had murdered the father of one of the closest people in his heart. He had murdered his own father.

In weeping, one thought kept nagging him. For what he had done, he deserved to die.

Irvine looked at the Exeter. It felt so tempting to just do it.

"_We've received word that the Galbadian Tribunal had issued a strong statement condemning the vile act. Additionally, state prosecutors are preparing a special provision arrest warrant for the apprehension of the main suspect, Irvine Kinneas. One of the six heroes lauded for thwarting two would-be world annihilators, Kinneas is renowned as a peerless marksman, and reports indicate that he was himself a trained assassin responsible for the liquidation of a number of terrorist leaders. As we speak, our correspondents in Balamb are trying to get a hold of Balamb Garden Headmaster, Cid Kramer, to hear his opinion on this matter. Please stay tuned as…"_

Maybe he should…

He couldn't believe what he just heard. He had always thought of them as overrated hotshots who never really deserved the renown of great warriors despite their exploits. Pure stroke of luck they had and nothing more when they defeated Ultimecia, setting them up as champions in the eyes of a world who was fond of worshipping half-baked heroes. Besides, if it weren't for him, those upstarts would never have beaten Vesta.

But he had never thought of them as walking time bombs. On the contrary, he was the one branded as such. Stupid morons! The world didn't know real skill if it was waved before their faces like a banner. Call him a walking time bomb?

Now who was the one in the news for killing a president of Galbadia?

_That stupid idiot!_

And he'd heard enough. _Sorry Fujin_, Seifer thought, bringing the Hyperion down hard on the AM/FM radio to split it in half. A tinge of regret radiated from his mind for neglecting to save the CD player.

He had known problematic. Hell, he was famous for it. Seifer was no stranger to being a loose cannon. There was a time two years ago when he assumed dumb status himself and held the late despot Vinzer Deling at knife point in an effort to offer aid to the Forest Owls. But he never really intended to kill the dictator. Give him a good scare, maybe. Abduction? Yeah, he'd go that far. But actual murder? And in front of Rinoa for that matter?

_What in hell was he thinking?_

Seifer paced across the cluttered remains of what used to be the orphanage's dining room, thinking of what to do next. He thought maybe he shouldn't get involved. If Irvine was indeed the one who shot Caraway, he couldn't care less. Maybe Irvine was a mindless moron. Maybe Caraway did something to provoke him, making him deserve his malevolent end.

But… Rinoa…

She didn't deserve any of this.

He was furious at the thought of the only woman he ever loved being caught in the moment of atrocity that made her witness her father's head being punctured by a hollow point. Rinoa was no toughie. She became a SeeD purely out of Headmaster Cid's intent to tame her sorceress powers. She never underwent any special training for hardening porcelain nerves. She was as brittle and fragile as they come. She wasn't built to withstand this kind of nightmare.

Seifer feared what the event must have done to Rinoa. He feared and seethed. If it was Irvine who did this, he will pay.

But revenge will have to wait. For now, he must go to the one person who needed his help the most. She may not want it from him, he admitted. After what he did to her in Lunatic Pandora, and after how she explicitly told him to get out of her life months ago, Seifer realized that he may just be the last person she wanted to see. His mind warred between the desire to help her and the fear of being rejected.

Seifer almost felt amused at himself. He had always thought himself above the inane concern of being rejected. But for some obvious reason, when coming from Rinoa, rejection hurt him like a mad truck slamming against his bare chest. Seeing her push him away, even at the hour of her great need, might just turn out to be something he couldn't bear to endure.

But then he wondered, where was Squall in all this? According to reports, Rinoa was alone when she went to see her father. And he had been hearing loose rumors from his posse that things haven't been going well with the two. In fact, they thought they heard faint murmurs about a break up. Could it be?

At the onset, he should feel glad about it. But Seifer just can't find it in his heart to rejoice. Not today. Not with this soul-crushing tragedy besieging his beloved.

And with Squall out of the picture, his action should be obvious. To hell with Cid's orders.

_I'm going to Deling City._

**End of Chapter 21**


End file.
